THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  W'lLMER,  JR. 


£lLMEaOOUiuCilUKM 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/heroinhomespunta01bart 


A  Hero  in  Homespun 


The   Spinning- Wheel   in   the    Porch.        Page  112. 


Hero  in  Homespun 


A  Tale  of  the  L>oyal  South 


By 

William   E.   Barton 

Author  of  Life  in  the  Hills  of  Kentucky,  etc. 


Lamson,  Wolffe  and   Company 

Boston,  New  York  and  London 
MDCCCXCVII 


Copyright,  1897, 
By  Lamson,  WolfFe  and  Company. 


All  rights   reser-ved. 


Noriuood  Press 

J.  S.  Gushing  (Sf  Co. — Berwick  &  Smith 

Norwood  Mass.   U.  S.  A. 


To  Her 

Who  spent  the  First  Tears  of  our  Married  Life 

with  Me  in  the  Mountains  of  Kentucky 

and  Tennessee 

And  whose  Presence  and  Inspiration 

abide  to  this  Day 


602712 


Preface 

How  much  of  this  book  is  history  and  how 
much  is  fiction  will  be  apparent  to  readers  familiar 
with  the  history.  To  extend  popular  knowledge 
of  the  Civil  War  as  it  affected  a  large  but  almost 
unrecognized  body  of  our  people,  this  volume  has 
been  written.  The  form  of  fiction  has  been  em- 
ployed to  permit  a  larger  use  of  incident  and  per- 
sonal experience,  and  to  allow  greater  freedom  of 
treatment,  but  the  historical  background  is  believed 
to  be  true  to  fact.  I  have  thought  well  not  to 
locate  too  definitely  the  home  of  my  principal  char- 
acters. The  name  and  some  of  the  characteristics 
of  Roundstone  Creek,  in  Rockcastle  County,  Ken- 
tucky, have  been  borrowed  and  removed  to  a  valley 
some  fifty  miles  remote.  With  this  exception,  the 
geography  of  the  book  is  correct. 

I  have  had  to  allow  my  characters  freedom  of 
speech,  even  though  they  sometimes  speak  unwisely 
or  too  harshly.  They  lived  in  a  day  when  men's 
passions  ran  high,  and  it  would  misrepresent  them 
to  tone  down  their  utterances  to  the  more  temperate 
spirit  of  our  time.     I  need  not  explain  that  I  do  not 


viii  Preface 

in  every  case  share  the  views  expressed.  I  should 
feel  grieved  if  any  word  herein  contained  should 
seem  to  breathe  a  present  spirit  of  bitterness.  Seven 
years  of  residence  in  the  South  taught  me  how  great 
is  the  need  of  charity  in  our  judgments  upon  those 
to  whom  the  war  involved  such  momentous  choices 
as  it  did  the  people  of  the  South.  The  South  to- 
day is  loyal,  and  a  considerable  part  of  it  has  always 
been  so. 

I  desire  to  thank  the  friends  —  too  many  to  be 
named  —  who  during  the  last  twelve  years  have 
aided  me  in  the  securing  of  incidents  for  this  under- 
taking. For  aid  in  gathering  historical  material,  I 
am  especially  indebted  to  Mr.  Arthur  M.  Knapp 
of  the  Boston  Public  Library.  1  wish  also  to 
acknowledge  the  courtesy  of  the  railroads  passing 
to  and  through  the  region  described,  —  the  Big 
Four ;  the  Southern  ;  the  Queen  and  Crescent ;  the 
Nashville,  Chattanooga,  and  St.  Louis ;  the  Louis- 
ville and  Nashville ;  and  the  Knoxville,  Cumberland 
Gap,  and  Louisville.  These,  on  our  recent  tour  of 
three  thousand  miles,  placed  all  possible  facilities  at 
the  disposal  of  author  and  artist  for  the  careful 
study  of  the  field. 

Thrice  in  the  history  of  our  country,  at  King's 
Mountain,  at  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  and  in  the 
Civil  War,  the  homespun  hero  of  the  southern 
Appalachians  has  emerged  from  his  obscurity  and 


Preface  ix 

turned  the  tide  of  battle.  Thrice  he  has  returned 
to  his  mountain  fastnesses  and  been  forgotten.  I 
have  called  him  forth  again,  and  am  sending  him 
out  in  hope  that  he  may  be  better  known  to  his 
countrymen.  I  have  seen  him  in  his  home,  and 
have  great  respect  for  his  whole-souled  hospitality. 
I  have  followed  his  track  where  he  stained  with 
patriotic  blood  a  score  of  battlefields.  I  have  con- 
fidence that  he  will  be  loved  the  more  as  he  comes 
to  be  known  the  better,  and  that  his  great  work  will 
not  forever  fail  of  cordial  recognition.  And  so  to 
my  Hero  in  Homespun,  as  he  enters  somewhat 
bashfully  a  world  that  is  mostly  new  to  him,  I  bid 
a  hearty  Godspeed  and  farewell. 

W.  E.  B. 

Boston,  Sept.  i,  1897. 


Contents 


Chapter 

Page 

I. 

The  Frolic  at  Hanson's  .          .          .          . 

I 

II. 

The  Soldier's  Farewell     .          .          .          . 

21 

in. 

To  Fight  for  the  Flag       .          .          .          . 

.           36 

IV. 

Toward  the  Promised  Land 

•       54 

V. 

The  Battle  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain      . 

.       65 

VI. 

The  Fighting  Parson         .          .           .          . 

•       74 

VII. 

Burning  the  Bridges          .           .          .          . 

.       87 

VIII. 

Retreat  from  a  Vanquished  Foe 

100 

IX. 

A  Loyal  Deserter  .... 

108 

X. 

Sunday  at  Sevierville 

.      123 

XI. 

Exile  and  Prison     .           .          .          .          . 

•      131 

XII. 

Jack's  First  Journey  by  Rail 

.      149 

XIII. 

Jack's  Return  to  his  Regiment  . 

•      158 

XIV. 

The  Battle  of  Mill  Spring 

.      172 

XV. 

A  Duel  in  the  Dark 

.      182 

XVI. 

If  Thine  Enemy  Hunger 

192 

XVII. 

Parson  Brownlow's  Release 

•      199 

XVIII. 

How  a  Woman  Saved  an  Army 
xi 

.     205 

xii 

Contents 

Chapter 

Page 

XIX. 

The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County 

215 

XX. 

The  Capture  of  Cumberland  Gap    . 

222 

XXI. 

A  Great  and  Forgotten  Battle 

227 

XXII. 

The  Secret  of  the  Sinks 

244 

XXIII. 

In  Secret  Service            .... 

258 

XXIV. 

Out  of  the  Frying  Pan 

272 

XXV. 

On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That    . 

281 

XXVI. 

The  Batde  of  Stone  River 

292 

XXVII. 

Fort  Sanders  and  Lookout  Mountain 

•     3" 

XXVIII. 

Mary  Gossett's  Baby    .... 

334 

XXIX. 

The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger 

•     343 

XXX. 

The  Thaw  in  Nashville 

•     356 

XXXI. 

How^  Jack  Met  the  Enemy     . 

.     367 

XXXII. 

The  Last  Fight 

.     380 

XXXIII. 

The  Rag  and  the  Fiddle 

388 

List  of  Illustrations 


I.  The  Spinning-wheel  in  the  Porch 

II.  The  Rescue  of  Cub  .... 

III.  The  Burning  of  the  Bridges 

IV.  Mrs.  Casey's  Warning  to  Parson  Brownlow 
V.  Jack  meets  an  Old  Acquaintance 

VI.  The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County    . 

VII.  The  Secret  of  the  Sinks 

VIII.  On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That 

IX.  A  Night  Ride  on  Stone  River 

X.  The  Flag  and  the  Fiddle     . 


Page 
.    Frontispiece      i  i  2 


70 

90 

iz8 

175 

221 

257 
289 


A  Hero  in  Homespun 

A  'Tale  of  the  Loyal  South 

I 

The  Frolic  at  Hanson's 

"  •^  OIN'  acrost  to  Hanson's,  Jack  ?  " 

■      -w-        "  Bimeby.     Ma's  goin'  atter  while   to 
V_-^      help  with  the  supper.     I'll  wait  an'  pack 
some  dishes  over  for  her.     You're  goin' 
early." 

"Yes.  I  allers  'low  to  be  on  time  to  a  frolic. 
I'm  fust  to  git  thar  an'  the  last  to  leave,  or  cal'/^/^ 
to  be.  That  was  the  way  with  Washington,  I've 
heerd :  he  was  fust  for  war,  an'  the  last  fur  peace, 
an'  allers  ready  fur  a  hoedown." 

"  You  got  yer  fiddle,  Steph,  I  see.  Goin'  to  be 
any  dancin'  ?  " 

"  Wall,  not  so  awful  much,  I  reckon.  The  Han- 
sons is  professors,  but  not  right  strict  about  sech 
like.  Hank  ast  me  to  bring  the  fiddle  over,  an' 
sorter  see  wich  way  the  cat  jumped.  Ef  Mis'  Han- 
son don't  say  nothin'  agin  it,  an'  they  ain't  no  reason 
wy  not,  wy  mebby  I'll  see  how  rosin  sounds  on 
catgut.  But  they  didn't  want  to  say  nothin'  'bout 
it,  fur  Preacher  Tate  don't  Hke  it,  an'  they  belong 
to  his  church." 

"Yes,  I  knowed  they  was  Babtis'.  But  they  ain't 
quite  so  strict  as  the  Methodis'." 


A  Hero  in  Homespun 


"  The  Reglar  Babtis'  hain't,  but  Preacher  Tate 
is  Hardshell.  He  hates  a  fiddle  wus'n  pizen. 
Wall,  I  mus'  be  goin'.  They  hain't  goin'  to  be  no 
fun  till  I  git  thar,  as  the  feller  said  wen  he  was 
goin'  ter  be  hung."  Steph  Crowell  patted  his  fiddle 
with  the  end  of  his  fingers,  and  picked  a  little  at  the 
strings.  "  By  the  way.  Jack,  have  you  seen  them 
kinfolks  o'  the  Hansons'  that's  visitin'  from  Kain- 
tuck  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  ben  over  two  or  three  times  sence  they 
come.  Hank  ast  me  to  come  acrost  an'  visit  with 
his  cousin  Eph." 

"  With  Eph,  hey  ?  I  'lowed  hit  war  the  gal. 
They  say  she's  a  main  scorcher.  Sam  Marshall 
told  me  he  seed  her  at  church  the  secon'  Sunday, 
wen  they  was  preachin'  at  Liberty  Hill,  —  ole 
Preacher  Post  preaches  thar  the  secon'  Sunday, 
—  an'  he  'lowed  she  was  purty  as  a  picter.  He 
means  to  shine  up  to  her  to-night.  Ef  I  didn't 
hev  to  fiddle,  I'd  give  him  the  wust  possum  hunt 
fur  her  ever  he  seed.  But  hit's  the  penalty  o'  bein' 
vartuous,  an'  makin'  fun  for  the  res',  to  hev  to  set 
by  an'  see  hit,  an'  not  have  none  theirselves.  Say, 
Jack,  is  she  purty  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  notice  p'tic'lar,"  said  Jack,  coloring. 
"  She's  good  lookin'   enough,   I   reckon." 

"You  didn't  notice,  ha,  ha!  You  kin  lie,  Jack, 
cyain't  ye  ?  You  didn't  notice,  hey  ?  Well,  you 
bes'  ter  look  to-night,  an'  look  sharp  ef  ye  mean 
ter  keep  in  with  her." 

Jack  was  evidently  interested,  but  he  changed  the 
subject.     "  How's  politics  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sho  'nuff,"  said  Steph.     "  I  come  by  to  ast  ye, 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's 


an'  plumb  forgot  huccum  I  ter  come.  I  hain't  seen 
ye  sence  the  Greenville  Convention.  You  was  one 
o'  the  delegates,  warn't  ye  ?  You'd  best  be  a  leetle 
mite  keerful.     What  d'ye  'low  ter  do  ?  " 

"  We  'low  to  have  an  election  the  first  Thursday 
in  August,"  said  Jack,  "  an'  see  whether  East  Ten- 
nessy  has  got  to  go  out  o'  the  Union  against  her 
will." 

"  She  won't  go  ef  she  don'  hatter,  that's  plain 
enough.  But  I  don't  reckon  hit's  wuth  wile  to 
raise  no  dirt  about  hit.  Hit's  a  groundhog  case,  as 
the  feller  said." 

"  I  don't  see  why  East  Tennessy  should  go  out 
o'  the  Union  when  she  voted  at  two  elections 
eighteen  thousand  clean  majority  against  it." 

"  But    ye    see,  Jack,  the   hull   State  voted    agin 

separation  in  Febuary,  an'  changed  its  mind  come 

J>> 

"  East  Tennessy  didn't  change  its  mind." 

"  No,  my  boy.  But  the  vote  didn't  hold  up  to 
the  vote  in  the  winter." 

"  No,  but  that's  easy  'nuff  to  account  for.  Still, 
it  was  three  to  one  against  separation.  They  was 
about  as  many  votes  cast  for  the  Union  as  in  the 
winter,  but  they  counted  more  votes  for  separa- 
tion. 

"  They  voted  a  hull  raft  o'  Jeff  Davis'  sojers,  an' 
counted  them  in  East  Tennessy's  vote.  Hit  didn't 
seem  har'ly  square,  did  hit  ?  " 

"  Hit  was  a  plumb  shame  !  "  cried  Jack. 

Steph  threw  one  leg  over  the  horn  of  his  saddle, 
and  leaned  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  holding  his  sandy 
chin  whiskers  in  his  hand.     This  was  his  attitude  of 


A  Hero  in   Homespun 


seriousness.  The  bobbing  of  Steph's  chin  when  he 
laughed,  and  the  twisting  of  it  when  he  made 
his  grimaces,  always  seemed  to  indicate  with  the 
sharp  end  of  his  beard  the  point  of  his  joke.  There 
was  often  vaguely  discernible  an  undercurrent  of 
seriousness  in  his  joking,  but  when  he  became 
thoughtfully  sober,  he  held  fast  to  his  chin  as  the 
unruly  member. 

"You  best  be  keerful.  Jack,"  he  said.  "  I'm  ten 
year  an'  better  older'n  you,  an'  I  hain't  tangled  up 
with  no  fambly.  Ef  I  was  in  your  place,  I'd  go 
slow.  Public  sentiment's  changin'.  In  the  winter 
the  hull  State  wanted  to  stay  in  the  Union,  but  the 
Governor  and  the  Legislater  passed  an  audience  of 
secession,  an'  Fort  Sumpter  was  fired  on  an'  tuck, 
an'  the  people  seed  that  the  South  was  goin'  to  the 
devil  an'  the  State  was  goin'  with  hit,  an'  they  jes' 
'lowed  they  mought  as  well  git  in  out  o'  the  wet. 
Now,  you  look  at  this  here  county.  Granger  voted 
sixteen  hundred  to  a  hundred  an'  fifty-eight  for  the 
Union.  That  was  in  Febuary.  In  June,  when 
Guv'nor  Harris  had  passed  that  audience  of  seces- 
sion, the  vote  stood  about  six  hundred  for  the 
South  to  fifteen  hundred  for  the  Union.  That's 
a  big  difference." 

"  How  did  you  vote  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"Wall,  that  would  be  tellin'.  But  hit  was  this 
way.  I've  alers  ben  unfortunit."  Here  Steph  let 
go  of  his  chin  for  a  moment.  "  You  know  that's 
wy  I  never  got  married.  I  couldn't  sorter  seem  to 
make  up  my  mind.  I'd  think  I  liked  a  gal,  an' 
then  in  would  come  another,  an'  atwixt  'em  I'd  git 
all   hesitated   up.     I'm   sorter   lack   the   mule,  you 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's  5 

know,  that  starved  to  death  halfway  betwixt  two 
haystacks.  Well,  now,  when  the  fust  election  come, 
I  voted  for  the  Union,  sho  'nufF.  But  when  the 
June  election  come,  I  seed  them  Johnny  Rebs  at 
the  polls,  votin'  theirselves  an'  watchin'  how  others 
voted,  an'  I  says,  says  I,  I'll  split  the  difference. 
So  I  voted  *  For  Separation,'  but  '  Agin  Representa- 
tion,' in  the  secesh  convention." 

"  You'll  have  a  chance  to  vote  agin  come  the  first 
Thursday  in  next  month,"  said  Jack.  "  The  Con- 
vention at  Greenville  adopted  resolutions  protesting 
against  the  action  of  the  Governor  and  Legislature, 
and  calling  this  election  to  make  East  Tennessy  a 
separate  State.  We'll  have  our  rights  in  a  new,  free 
commonwealth." 

"  I  hope  so.  Jack.  When  you  fellers  git  your 
new  State,  I'll  come  in  an'  run  fur  office.  But  don't 
say  so  too  loud  till  ye  git  it  done,  or  the  rebs  will 
arrest  ye,  an'  then  ye  know  yer  got  yer  choice  o' 
three  things,  —  take  the  oath  to  defend  the  South, 
jine  the  rebs,  or  go  to  jail.  Wall,  this  is  pleasant, 
as  the  gal  said  about  sparkin',  but  hit  won't  pay  the 
preacher.  I  mus'  go  on.  Look  out  for  Sam  Mar- 
shall. He's  as  sure  to  git  that  gal  as  ten  cents  is 
to  buy  ginger  cake  o'  county  cote  day.  Ef  you  let 
him  git  her,  I'll  fiddle  fur  him  same's  fur  you.  The 
fiddle's  no  respecter  of  persons,  as  the  preacher  says." 

Jack  stood  at  the  fence  for  a  few  moments  as 
Steph  rode  on.  He  was  six  feet  tall,  with  brown 
hair  that  had  just  a  touch  of  red,  blue  eyes  whose 
pupils  dilated  at  times  till  they  seemed  almost  black, 
a  fine  brow,  and  a  moustache  that  had  survived  the 
uncertain  color  of  its  first  attempt  and  grown  to  a 


A  Hero  in   Homespun 


reddish  brown.  He  was  dressed  up  for  the  party 
now,  in  gray  jeans  trousers  and  unstarched  white 
shirt.  His  coat  was  omitted  till  the  last  minute, 
but  that  also  was  of  gray  homespun  jeans.  Eliza- 
beth Casey,  who  came  to  the  door  to  say  that  she 
was  almost  ready  to  start,  saw  her  son  standing  by 
the  rail  fence,  the  descending  July  sun  lighting  up 
his  hair,  and  thought  there  was  no  boy  in  the  neigh- 
borhood to  compare  with  him. 

"  I'll  come  in  a  minute,  mother,"  said  Jack.  "  I'll 
go  'round  to  the  barn  a  minute  an'  see  to  Jerry." 

The  horse  whinnied  as  he  came  in  sight,  and 
Jack  pulled  a  handful  of  unthrashed  oats  from  a 
bundle  and  fed  him  from  his  hand. 

"  Want  more,  do  ye  ?  Well,  ye-  shan't  have  an- 
other head.  I've  done  fed  ye  a' ready.  Well,  yer 
a  mighty  fine  boy,  anyhow.  I'll  give  ye  just  another 
handful." 

He  tossed  the  bundle  back  into  the  bay  and  sat 
down  on  an  upturned  bucket. 

"  Take  the  oath,  jine  the  rebs,  or  go  to  jail,  is  it," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  That's  mighty  slim  pickin' 
fur  choice.  An'  I  don't  reckon  I  could  git  into  the 
Union  army  so  fur  away,  an'  I  don't  want  to  leave 
ma,  nohow.  I  wonder  ef  Steph  is  as  big  a  coward 
as  he  lets  on."  Then  suddenly  changing  the  sub- 
ject, he  said  to  himself,  "  She  is  pretty,  sure  enough. 
Sam  Marshall  wants  her,  does  he  ?  Well,  we'll  see 
ef  Sam  Marshall  gits  her." 

The  mountaineer  mingles  a  clannish  regard  for 
family  connections  with  an  inconsistent  disregard 
of  ancestry.  Who  a  man's  brother  is,  is  a  matter 
of  importance ;    but  who  was  his  grandfather,  few 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's 


men  care.  But  the  Caseys  possessed  some  family- 
records,  supplemented  by  tradition,  which  told  the 
main  events  of  their  family  life  for  several  genera- 
tions. It  was  in  1837  that  James  Casey,  Jack's 
father,  married  Elizabeth  Sevier,  whose  name  told 
of  her  descent  from  the  old  hero  of  King's  Mountain 
and  the  free  state  of  Franklin,  and  moved  from  his 
father's  house  near  Elizabethtown,  down  the  Holston 
River  to  the  home  where  Jack  was  born.  There  the 
young  couple  began  life  in  a  pole  cabin,  at  first  un- 
chinked,  and  with  a  stick  chimney,  and  "  made  their 
first  crap  o'  corn  "  in  the  little  deadening  chopped 
by  his  axe.  When  he  died,  Elizabeth  held  the  home 
and  trained  up  her  son  in  the  way  he  should  go. 

James  Casey  was  born  near  the  close  of  the  War 
of  1 8 12,  whose  earlier  engagements  had  been  almost 
unknown  in  the  mountains  of  East  Tennessee.  But 
the  closing  events  gave  to  the  region  and  to  Alpheus 
Casey,  James'  father,  a  full  share  of  struggle  and 
of  unrecorded  glory ;  for  the  battle  of  New  Orleans, 
when  Old  Hickory  held  the  city  with  his  cotton- 
bale  fort,  was  won  largely  by  Tennesseeans,  and  was 
fought  with  powder  made  in  East  Tennessee,  of  salt- 
petre leached  from  the  earth  in  its  caves,  and  of 
charcoal  burned  in  its  forests.  In  this  patriotic 
work,  superintended  by  Samuel  McSpadden,  of 
Jefferson  County,  Alpheus  Casey,  his  kinsman  by 
marriage,  had  his  share,  as  well  as  in  the  actual 
fighting.  Alpheus'  father,  Isaac  Casey,  was  a 
young  man  of  twenty  when  the  Revolution  broke 
out ;  and  in  that  war,  side  by  side  with  his  father, 
the  old  Scotch-Irish  Presbyterian  immigrant,  Alex- 
ander Casey,  he  did   valiant  service   for   the   colo- 


A  Hero  in   Homespun 


nies  against  King  George.  Together  they  stood  at 
Cowpens  under  Marion.  Together  they  fought 
with  Shelby  and  Robertson  and  Sevier  at  King's 
Mountain. 

But  this  was  not  their  first  fighting.  Before 
King's  Mountain  and  Cowpens,  before  Monmouth 
or  Bunker  Hill,  before  even  Lexington  and  Con- 
cord, the  father  and  son  had  stood  together,  the 
son  then  only  a  lad  of  sixteen,  and  had  faced  the 
British  troops  at  Alamance. 

Who  knows  the  real  beginning  of  the  American 
Revolution  ?  For  before  as  yet  any  blood  had 
been  shed,  save  that  which  a  few  months  earlier 
had  reddened  the  stones  of  King  Street  with  the 
life-blood  of  the  five  victims  of  the  Boston  Mas- 
sacre, a  hundred  men  laid  down  their  lives  for 
American  Hberty  at  the  Alamance  Creek  in  western 
North  Carolina.  There,  on  the  i6th  of  May,  1771, 
two  thousand  "  Regulators  "  faced  the  royal  gover- 
nor, Tryon,  with  his  regulars  and  the  militia  from 
the  counties  along  the  coast,  in  bloody  protest 
against  the  right  of  the  crown  to  tax  the  colonies. 
They  fought  till  their  powder  and  ball  gave  out, 
and  then  retreated,  leaving  of  the  slain  of  both 
armies  two  hundred  on  the  field. 

Tryon  captured  many  of  the  Regulators,  arid 
executed  six  for  high  treason,  and  the  rest  fled  to 
the  mountains,  or  bought  their  lives  with  an  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  British  crown.  Among  the 
many  who  refused  to  take  the  oath  was  Alexander 
Casey.  He  left  behind  his  home  in  North  Caro- 
lina, and,  with  his  family  on  horseback,  made  his 
way  across  the  mountains  to  the  new  and  free  com- 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's 


monwealth  of  Watauga  in  East  Tennessee.  His 
wife  and  the  younger  children  rode,  and  carried  a 
few  domestic  treasures  with  them ;  but  Alexander 
and  Alpheus  trudged  on  foot,  with  axe  and  gun, 
sometimes  chopping  a  trail  through  the  wilderness 
to  the  new  commonwealth  where  men  were  free. 

The  first  battle  of  the  Revolution  was  the  battle 
of  the  Alamance,  May  i6,  177 1.  The  first  Decla- 
ration of  Independence  was  that  of  the  Scotch-Irish 
mountaineers  at  Mecklenburg,  May  31,  1755.  The 
first  free  commonwealth  ever  formed  by  American- 
born  freemen  was  the  Watauga  Association  in  East 
Tennessee  in  1772.  For  several  years  it  exercised 
all  the  functions  of  statehood,  and  later  its  founders, 
Sevier  and  Robertson,  had  a  share  in  the  so-called 
state  of  Franklin,  of  which  John  Sevier  was  Gover- 
nor. The  love  of  liberty  which  was  manifested  in 
all  these  events  was  transmitted  from  father  to  son  ; 
and  in  the  veins  of  Jack  Casey  there  flowed,  from 
his  father,  the  blood  of  the  heroes  of  Mecklenburg 
and  the  Alamance,  of  King's  Mountain  and  New  Or- 
leans ;  and  on  his  mother's  side  he  was  descended 
from  the  old  pioneer  and  patriot,  John  Sevier. 

Elizabeth  Casey  knew  only  the  bare  outlines  of 
these  great  historic  events.  Her  life  had  been  one 
of  hardship  and  privation.  She  had  toiled  long  and 
hard  to  bring  up  to  manhood  her  only  son,  left 
fatherless  at  the  age  of  fourteen.  Seven  long  years 
she  had  labored  for  him  and  he  for  her,  and  she 
had  seen  him  grow  from  boyhood  into  the  tall  and 
strong  young  man  he  now  was. 

She  was  waiting  for  Jack  when  he  came  in  from 
the  barn. 


lo  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Put  on  yer  coat.  Jack,  and  pack  them  dishes 
fur  me.  I'm  ready  now,  an'  they'll  be  a-wantin'  me 
to  help  git  supper.      I  didn't  know  whar  ye'd  gone." 

"  I'm  ready,  ma.      I  jes'  went  out  to  the  barn." 

Together  they  walked  along  the  path  that  led 
over  the  low  ridge  to  the  Hansons',  the  son  ahead, 
and  the  mother  following.  She  looked  up  at  him 
with  pride,  he  was  so  tall  and  strong.  What  a  man 
he  was!  How  much  he  knew!  How  brave  and 
true  he  was  !  She  had  borrowed  books  and  read 
them  with  him,  increasing  her  own  knowledge,  be- 
yond her  previous  ambition,  to  keep  up  with  Jack. 
They  had  not  read  many,  to  be  sure,  but  the 
Bible,  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  "Robinson  Crusoe," 
a  school  history,  and  a  half  dozen  other  books  they 
had  pored  over  till  they  knew  them  by  heart.  Now 
he  was  a  man,  and  no  young  man  on  the  creek  was 
stronger,  wiser,  cleaner,  or  had  more  qualities  to 
gladden  a  mother's  heart  than  Jack.  All  this,  and 
much  more,  she  said  to  herself,  and  it  was  not  the 
first  time  she  had  said  it,  as  they  walked  over  to 
Hanson's. 

"  Howdy, 'Liz'beth.  Howdy,  Jack,"  said  Jacob 
Hanson,  as  they  entered  the  yard.  "  Come  over  to 
help  us  out  to-night,  hev  ye  ?  Wall,  I'm  glad  to 
see  ye.  These  is  my  kinfolks,  Mr.  Eph  Whitley 
and  his  sister  Miss  Jennie.  This  is  Mis'  Casey. 
You  know  her  boy  Jack,  a'ready.  These  young 
folks  has  come  over  to  sorter  visit  us  an'  goin'  back 
nex'  week  to  Roundstone,  over  in  Kaintuck.  We 
sorter  thought  we'd  invite  in  the  neighbor  young 
folks,  —  that's  you  an'  me.  Mis'  Casey,  —  an'  give 
'em  a  good  time  afore  they  go.      Here  comes  some 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's  1 1 

more.  Howdy,  Sam.  Glad  ye  come.  Didn't 
know  whether  ye'd  be  able  to  leave  yer  patients, 
ha  !  ha  !  I  reckon  a  doctor  has  a  power  on  'em 
wen  he  fus'  starts  out.  A  heap  o'  doctors  has  more 
then  than  they  ever  git  atterwuds,  —  they  kill  'em 
off  so  fas'." 

"Ah,  you're  always  jokin'  'bout  the  doctors," 
returned  the  young  Dr.  Marshall.  "  You  just  wait 
till  I  git  you  where  I  can  give  you  some  med'cine 
I've  got  fur  you  in  my  pill  bags  !  I'll  show  you 
what  doctors  are  good  for  !  " 

"You  won't  git  me.  Not  ef  I  kin  help  hit. 
Wen  I  die,  I  wanter  die  a  nateral  death,  as  the 
feller  said  wen  he  shot  hisself  to  keep  from  gittin' 
hung.  Here's  Harry,  now.  Harry,  take  Doctor 
Sam  over  an'  introduce  him  to  yer  cousins.  I 
reckon  hit's  time  fur  me  to  git  my  coat  on." 

Jacob  Hanson  was  a  stout,  jolly  man  in  middle 
life,  happy  and  hospitable,  fond  of  a  joke,  and  true 
to  his  friends.  He  soon  reappeared  with  his  coat 
on,  and  manifestly  the  less  comfortable  both  in 
body  and  mind  for  the  change. 

"  They  keep  a-comin',"  said  Jacob.  "  Wall,  the 
more  the  merrier.  Howdy,  Bill.  Howdy,  Mary. 
Mighty  proud  to  see  ye.  Bill,  I  didn't  har'ly  look 
fur  ye.  I  thought  you'd  married  a  wife  and  there- 
fore could  not  come.  Glad  you  brought  him, 
Mary.  Go  right  in.  Mother,  here's  Bill  an' 
Mary  Gossett." 

There  was  a  hum  of  welcome  as  they  crossed  the 
threshold.  They  had  been  married  but  a  few 
weeks,  and  the  story  of  their  romance  was  known 
to  all  the  neighborhood. 


12  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  They  hain't  but  mighty  few  as  pretty  gals  as 
Mary  here  to-night,"  said  Henry  Hanson  to  Jack. 
"  Look  at  that  head  o'  hair.  Looks  like  flax  ofF'n 
the  swingling  board." 

"  Fresh  hetchelled,"  said  Jack.  "  I  never  seen 
such  hair.      Bill  deserves  her." 

"  Sartin.  He  waited  nine  year  fur  her.  Her 
paw  didn't  like  Bill  'counter  a  furse  he'd  had  'ith 
Bill's  dad,  and  Bill  an'  Mary  'lowed  they'd  wait  till 
the  ole  man  gin  in  or  died,  one." 

"  They  didn't  need  to  count  on  him  a-givin'  in." 

"  Well,  they  hain't  nobody  mournin'  his  death, 
as  I've  heerd.  He  had  his  good  pints,  but  he  was 
a  main  buster  when  hit  come  to  hatin'." 

Bill  and  Mary  had  married  as  soon  after  the  death 
of  her  father  as  was  counted  proper,  and  their  joy  in 
each  other  showed  itself  in  every  act.  There  was 
something  that  was  almost  terrible  in  the  love  that 
shone  from  Bill's  eye  as  he  looked  upon  his  flaxen- 
haired  bride.  There  was  the  joy  of  the  lover,  but 
also  the  triumph  that  was  almost  that  of  a  panther 
watching  his  prey.  There  was  the  memory  of  years 
of  waiting,  and  of  an  affection  that  had  been  ever 
near  the  border  line  of  hate. 

"  Tell  us  about  the  Convention,  Jack,"  said 
Jacob,  as  the  men  gathered  outside  in  the  twilight, 

"  I  reckon  you  know  all  about  it,"  said  Jack. 
"  Judge  Nelson  presided  and  made  a  speech  for 
the  Union.  The  Convention  was  as  strong  for  the 
Union  as  the  one  at  Knoxville,  first  of  June.  Andy 
Johnson  was  at  home,  and  he  made  a  great  speech. 
They  say  it  was  the  biggest  speech  of  his  life.  Judge 
Trigg  spoke,  and  he  called  on  loyal  men  to  tear  down 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's  13 

the  telegraph  lines  and  pull  up  the  rails  of  the  track 
through  Knoxville,  to  keep  the  rebels  from  crossing 
East  Tennessy." 

"  A  crowd  of  young  fellers  in  Knoxville  set  out  to 
do  it  t'other  night,"  said  Henry.  "  Parson  Brown- 
low  found  it  out  an'  persuaded  them  to  not  do  it. 
But  I  heerd  to-day  that  half  them  same  fellers  has 
jined  the  rebel  army  sence  then." 

"  Sentiment  is  changin'  fast  towards  the  South," 
said  Dave  Hensie.  "  I  kin  see  it  among  folks  that's 
got  kinfolks  in  ole  V  'ginny.  Some  that  was  strong 
for  the  Union  a  month  ago,  remembers  their  kin- 
folks  that's  got  lots  o'  niggers  an'  is  goin'  with  the 
South,  an'  they're  a-goin'  thataway,  too." 

"  They  warn't  no  sign  o'  that  at  the  Greenville 
Convention,"  said  Jack.  "  You  ought  to  a-heerd 
Parson   Brownlow  talk." 

"  Oh,  Brownlow  is  for  the  Union,  everybody 
knows  that." 

"  He  ain't  the  only  one.  John  Netherland  spoke, 
and  John  Flemming  and  Temple  of  Knoxville 
and  Judge  Baxter  and  Captain  Tom  Arnold. 
They  was  delegates  from  every  county  in  East 
Tennessy,  and  the  hull  Convention  was  strong  for 
the   Union." 

"  They  ain't  no  doubt  East  Tennessy's  thataway  ef 
she  kin  have  her  way.  Here  comes  Sam  Marshall. 
What  do  you  think  about  it.  Doc  ?  " 

Sam  Marshall  entered  the  group,  a  tall,  dark, 
slender  young  man  with  heavy  black  eyebrows. 
He  had  recently  returned  from  Knoxville,  where 
he  had  been  studying  medicine,  and  had  begun  to 
practise  near  his  old  home. 


14  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

"  1  reckon  we'll  do  what  the  State  has  voted  to 
do,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Jack,  "  ef  the  country  hain't 
got  no  right  to  coerce  a  State,  what  right  West 
Tennessy  has  to  coerce   East  Tennessy." 

"  And  I  don't  see,"  said  Sam,  "  if  a  State  has  no 
right  to  secede,  what  right  East  Tennessy  has  to 
secede  from  the  rest  of  the  State." 

"  Well,  you  kin  burn  my  part  o'  Jeff  Davis,  any- 
how," said  Henry. 

"  An'  mine  o'  Abe  Lincoln,"  said  Sam. 

"  You'd  best  not  say  that,"  said  Jack. 

"  I'll  say  what  I  please.  I'm  for  the  South,  an' 
I  don't  care  who  knows  it." 

"  You'll  have  a  chance  to  go  South  ef  ye  want  to 
atter  the  August  election.  East  Tennessy  is  goin' 
to  cut  out  of  the  furrow  an'  stay  in  the  Union." 

"  Here,  boys,"  said  Jacob.  "  This  won't  do.  The 
ladies  in  thar  is  a-gittin'  lonesome.  No  more  poli- 
tics, now." 

But  several  times  during  the  evening  the  question 
came  up  again. 

The  first  part  of  the  evening  passed  with  mirth 
and  song.  The  reigning  queen  of  the  frolic  beyond 
a  doubt  was  Jennie  Whitley,  the  visiting  cousin. 
Beside  all  the  charm  which  novelty  lends,  she  was 
truly  a  pretty  girl.  Her  eyes  were  a  dark  brown. 
Her  hair  was  heavy  and  rich.  She  was  plump 
and  rosy,  and  had  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eye ; 
and  when  she  laughed,  there  was  a  dimple  in  her 
cheek  that  would  have  tempted  any  son  of  Adam 
to  admiration,  if  nothing  more.  She  was  unused 
to   so   much   attention   as   she   here  received.     She 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson'  15 

was  loved  and  admired  at  her  home  on  Round- 
stone,  but  there  she  had  grown  up,  and  people 
saw  her  with  the  eyes  that  had  known  her  from  a 
child ;  and  while  every  one  admired  her  face  and 
loved  her  sweet  womanly  way,  no  one  had  thought 
of  her  as  a  beauty.  To-night  she  was  the  centre 
of  an  admiring  group.  The  young  men  buzzed 
about  her  "  like  bees  around  a  gum,"  as  Steph 
Crowell  said.  Her  brother  Eph,  who  was  with 
her,  noted  with  admiration,  and  just  a  tinge  of  jeal- 
ousy, the  popularity  of  his  sister.  Yet  he  found 
a  good  measure  of  compensation  with  the  young 
women  of  the  party,  among  whom  he  found  none 
more  fair  than  his  kinswoman,  Martha  Hanson. 

After  supper  there  was  an  awkward  pause.  No 
one  knew  just  what  to  do.  Everybody  knew  what 
all  wanted  to  do,  but  it  would  never  have  done  to 
go  to  dancing  deliberately. 

"  Less  play  something,"  suggested  some  one. 

"  What  shall  we  play  ?  " 

"  Roll  the  platter." 

That  was  the  way  it  always  began.  The  game 
was  such  a  harmless  one,  and  no  one  was  supposed 
to  think  at  first  about  the  forfeits.  They  soon  had 
enough  of  that,  and  tried  "  Weavilly  Wheat."  That 
is  one  shade  worse,  for  it  is  played  to  music,  and 
the  players  move  about  while  they  sing.  Still,  it  is 
not  dancing. 

Then  they  played  "  Skip  t'-m'-loo."  The  only 
worse  thing  about  that  was  that  some  one  proposed 
that  Steph  should  play  the  air  on  his  violin.  The 
very  next  thing  in  this  rapidly  increasing  descent 
was  a  Virginia  reel,  and  that  was  dancing,  certainly. 


i6  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

But  it  came  about  so  gradually  and  so  naturally, 
and  withal  so  unexpectedly,  that  even  a  tender 
conscience  had  hardly  a  chance  to  slip  in  a  protest 
edgewise  before  the  dance  was  on. 

But  it  was  before  the  reel,  and  while  they  were 
playing  "  Skip  t'-m'-loo,"  that  the  trouble  came. 
Sam  Marshall  had  bad  luck.  He  was  "  it "  twice 
in  succession.  Twice  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
ring,  while  the  others  marched  about  him  in  couples, 
singing  admiringly,  each  of  his  lady, 

"Pretty  as  a  red-bird,  skip  t'-m'-loo  ! 

Pretty  as  a  red-bird,  skip  t'-m'-loo  ! 

Pretty  as  a  red-bird,  skip  t'-m'-loo  ! 

Skip  t'-m'-loo,  my  darling  !  " 

It  was  his  duty  to  stand  there  until  the  song 
changed,  and  then  snatch  a  partner  for  himself, 
while  they  sang, 

"  Gone  again  !      Skip  t'-m'-loo. 

Skip  t'-m'-loo,  my  darling  !  " 

But  when  the  time  came,  he  missed  his  chance, 
being  confused  for  the  moment,  and  looking  about 
for  Jennie,  whom  just  then  he  did  not  see ;  and  all 
the  girls  were  snatched,  and  he  was  still  in  the  ring, 
while  they  circled  round  him,  singing, 

"I'll  get  another,  skip  t'-m'-loo  ! 
I'll  get  another  one,  prettier,  too  ! 
I'll  get  another  one,  skip  t'-m'-loo  ! 
Skip  t'-m'-loo,  my  darling  !  " 

To  be  "  it "  once  is  no  disgrace,  though  it  always 
subjects  a  man  to  some  pity  and  a  few  jokes.     But 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's  17 

to  be  "  it "  twice  makes  a  man  the  butt  of  the  com- 
pany through  all  the  next  threefold  song. 

Sam  Marshall  did  not  enjoy  being  ridiculed.  He 
thought  that  among  those  who  taunted  him  as  he 
stood  there  the  second  time,  Jack  Casey's  little  joke 
was  especially  biting.  It  may  have  been.  At  any 
rate,  Jack  found  himself  in  that  round,  just  behind 
Jennie  Whitley,  and  he  was  determined  that  the 
next  time  they  were  "  gone  again,"  the  "  other  one  " 
for  himself  should  be  Jennie,  or  he  would  know  the 
reason  why.  Sam  Marshall  had  a  similar  thought, 
and,  flushed  and  angry,  he  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  ring,  which  was  as  large  as  the  cleared-out  room 
would  allow,  turning  on  his  heel  as  the  company 
moved,  so  as  to  face  Jennie.  This  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  all,  and  he  saw  that  his  plan  was  detected. 
He  also  saw  that  Jennie  noticed  it,  and  was  annoyed 
that  he  should  be  so  constantly  following  her  with 
his  eyes,  and  attracting  the  attention  of  all  to  her ; 
for  all  were  now  eager  to  see  whether,  having  set  his 
heart  on  one  girl,  Sam  was  again  to  fail,  as  a  man  is 
more  likely  to,  who,  being  in  the  middle,  risks  all 
his  chance  upon  one  attempt.  Seeing  that  he  was 
annoying  her,  Sam  turned  away,  yet  timed  the 
moving  of  the  circle  and  the  progress  of  the  song, 
so  as  to  be  ready  for  a  spring  at  the  moment  it 
should  be  time  for  Jennie  to  be  "  gone  again."  At 
the  end  of  the  next  "  skip  t'-m'-loo,  my  darling,"  he 
turned  suddenly,  and  attempted  to  seize  Jennie,  but, 
in  his  haste  and  his  turning,  slipped  and  fell  sprawl- 
ing on  the  floor  amid  shouts  of  derisive  laughter, 
and  when  he  picked  himself  up,  red  as  a  beet,  and 
angry  as  a  bull,  he  was  again  too  late.      Every  man 


A  Hero  in   Homespun 


had  a  partner.     Jack  Casey  had  Jennie's  arm  and 
was  singing  with  the  rest,  and  laughing  as  he  sang, 

"Pretty  as  a  red-bird,  skip  t'-m'-loo  !  " 

It  was  more  than  Sam  Marshall  could  bear.  His 
race  was  a  hot-blooded  one,  and  he  was  hottest 
of  all.  He  regained  his  feet  with  an  oath,  and 
struck  a  savage  blow  at  Jack,  who  caught  him  as  he 
struck,  and  backing  him  against  the  wall,  exclaimed, 

"  You  git  right  out  o'  here,  you  coward,  an'  don't 
you  never  hit  at  me  again  or  I'll  thrash  you, 
sure  !  " 

With  that,  still  holding  Sam  Marshall's  hands,  he 
backed  him  out  of  the  door,  and  returned  to  the 
play.  The  game,  after  a  moment  of  interruption, 
went  on  through  that  set,  but  then  by  unanimous 
consent  they  changed  it,  as  people  like  to  change 
from  things  that  have  involved  unpleasantness,  and 
they  turned  to  the  Virginia  reel,  and  Jack  danced  in 
that  with  Jennie. 

Jack  had  many  compliments  from  the  young 
men,  when  the  party  was  breaking  up,  upon  his 
agility,  his  courage,  and  his  forbearance.  To  have 
so  skilfully  defended  himself,  to  have  humiliated 
his  assailant  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  company, 
and  yet  to  have  gone  no  step  beyond  what  they 
counted  the  strictest  propriety,  and  to  have  won  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening  the  belle  of  the  party,  —  all 
that  was  surely  occasion  for  felicitation.  But  there 
were  also  reports  of  dire  threats  of  the  vengeance 
sworn  by  Sam  Marshall.  What  he  could  do,  Jack 
had  no  idea.  He  would  hardly  shoot  him  from 
ambush,  —  Sam  Marshall  was  no  coward,  —  and  he 


The  Frolic  at  Hanson's  19 

did  not  fear  any  open  assault.  But  he  had  a  slight 
misgiving  when  he  remembered  how  strongly  he 
had  spoken  for  the  Union,  and  how  pronounced 
Sam  had  been  on  the  other  side.  Sam  had  ac- 
quaintances in  Knoxville,  too,  among  the  officers 
there.  He  began  to  think  it  possible  that  Sam's 
vengeance  might  make  itself  felt  in  that  way. 

The  young  men  and  women  did  not  allude  to 
the  sudden  departure  of  Marshall  until  they  sepa- 
rated to  prepare  for  departure.  Then  the  men 
talked  about  it  outside,  and  the  women  within. 

"  Wasn't  he  brave,  Jen  ?  Wasn't  you  proud  of 
him  ?  "   asked  Jennie's  cousin  Martha. 

Jennie  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  her  admiration 
for  Jack  and  the  way  he  had  behaved. 

"  He's  a  brave  fellow,"  she  said,  "  and  treated 
me  real  nice." 

"  He  is  nice,"  said  Martha.  "  I've  knowed  him 
sence  he  was  a  boy,  and  they  hain't  no  nicer  feller 
in  all  Granger  County  than  Jack  Casey." 

Outside  the  men  soon  returned  to  the  great  ques- 
tion of  absorbing  interest.  A  few  were  for  the 
South.  A  somewhat  larger  number  were  wavering, 
and  disposed  to  go  now  with  the  State.  But  a 
considerable  majority  were  for  the  Union,  first,  last, 
and  all  the  time. 

"  By  cracky,  Jack  !  "  said  Steph  Crowell,  "  you 
was  the  king  bee  to-night,  sure  !  I'd  a  ben  willin' 
to  a  broke  my  fiddle  to  a  ben  in  your  shoes.  I 
would  a  broke  a  string,  sure,  so's  to  have  an  excuse 
to  quit  playin',  ef  I'd  a  stood  any  show.  But  you 
arnt  it.  Jack,  you  arnt  it !  But  look  out  fur  Sam 
Marshall !  " 


20  A   Hero  in  Homespun 

They  were  standing  in  the  yard  in  the  last  stages 
of  departure  when  a  horseman  drew  rein  at  the 
fence. 

"  They's  ben  a  battle,"  he  cried.  "  They's  ben 
an  awful  battle  at  Bull  Run.  The  Yankees  are 
defeated.  Washington  is  about  to  be  captured. 
The  rebs  is  marching  north,  and  the  hull  North  is 
in  terror.  They's  bonfires  in  all  the  cities  of  the 
South,  an'  they  say  the  war  will  be  over  in  three 
months,  an'  the  South  will  be  free." 

They  crowded  to  the  fence  and  plied  him  with 
questions,  and  every  detail  brought  fresh  horror. 
The  messenger  soon  rode  on,  and  the  people  re- 
turned to  their  homes  in  the  silence  of  a  heart- 
breaking sorrow. 

Later  reports  confirmed  the  news  and  added  to 
the  probability  of  the  speedy  triumph  of  the  Con- 
federate cause.  It  settled  over  East  Tennessee  like 
a  pall.  The  election  called  for  the  first  Thursday 
in  August  was  never  held,  and  when  the  Union 
cause  rose  from  the  ashes  of  that  overwhelming 
disappointment,  it  was  in  another  form,  with  no 
immediate  thought  of  an  independent  common- 
wealth. Had  East  Tennessee  adjoined  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line,  the  attempt  would  not  thus  have 
failed.  It  was  far  from  its  friends,  and  in  posses- 
sion of  hostile  armies.  But  had  Bull  Run  resulted 
in  a  Union  victory.  East  Tennessee  would  have 
come  into  the  Union,  as  West  Virginia  later  did, 
an  independent,  loyal  State. 


II 

The  Soldier's  Farewell 

HENRY  HANSON  reined  in  his  horse,  wet 
with  sweat,  before  the  Casey  cabin,  one 
afternoon  early  in  September. 

"  Good  evenin'.   Mis'   Casey.      Is  Jack 
about  ? " 

"  Howdy,  Henry.  Been  ridin'  hard,  hain't  you  ? 
Jack's  still  hidin'  out,  but  I'll  call  him." 

Elizabeth  stepped  across  the  rude  porch,  inside 
the  door  of  the  rough  little  cabin,  and  brought  out 
a  cow's  horn,  on  which  she  blew  three  long  blasts, 
then  after  an  interval,  three  more. 

She  returned  the  horn  to  its  place,  and  took  up 
her  sunbonnet,  which,  however,  she  did  not  wear, 
and  came  to  the  fence,  her  golden  brown  hair,  that 
had  been  much  admired  in  her  girlhood,  showing 
now  and  then  a  streak  of  gray  in  the  sunlight. 

"  What's  the  news  ?  "  she  asked,  returning  to  the 
fence,  and  laying  her  sunbonnet  upon  it. 

"  Mighty  bad  news.  They're  arrestin'  Union 
men  more  than  ever,  and  there  ain't  no  prospect 
that  them  that's  had  to  hide  out  kin  come  back. 
The  rebs  is  a-goin'  to  invade  Kaintuck.  Zollicoffer 
is  a-goin'  to  push  out  from  Knoxville,  take  Cumber- 
land Gap,  and  move  on  north  to  the  Ohio  River." 

"  Law,  law !  It  don't  seem  possible.  But  I'll 
be  glad  to  have  'em  go  anywhere,  so's  we  git  shet 


22  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

on  'em,  an'  men  don't  have  to  hide  out,  an'  women 
kin  go  about  their  work.     Here  comes  Jack,  now." 

Cautiously  Jack  entered  the  clearing,  and,  seeing 
his  friend,  came  forward. 

"  Howdy,  Jack.     How  d'ye  like  sleepin'  out  ?  " 

"  Wall,"  returned  Jack,  with  a  faint  attempt  at 
humor,  "  they  hain't  no  bugs  in  the  beds  a  feller 
finds  out  in  the  woods." 

"Been  sleepin'  right  ou'door?" 

"  Slep'  in  the  cave,  mos'ly.  When  it's  clear  and 
not  too  cold,  I  sleep  out.     Where  do  you  sleep  ?  " 

"  Under  the  big  rock  whar  it  hangs  over,  foment 
the  barn,  acrost  the  branch.  We're  sorter  whar  we 
kin  watch  things,  an'  be  out  o'  sight." 

"  Got  yer  horse  yit,  I  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  had  to  hide  him  in  the  ravine  furder 
up  the  branch  from  us,  to  keep  the  rebs  from  findin' 
him.     They  ben  atter  him  twicet." 

"  Mine's  gone." 

"  Stole  ?  " 

"  Yep.  Come  an'  got  him  night  afore  las'.  It 
was  rainin'  that  night  an'  I  had  come  in.  I  heerd 
them  ride  up,  an'  I  got  out  the  back  way,  but  it 
warn't  Marshall  an'  his  crowd  that  time.  It  warn't 
me  they  wanted  but  the  horse.  I  fired  at  them  as 
they  was  a-leavin',  but  I  reckon  I  didn't  git  no 
game." 

"  I  wisht  you  had  !  " 

"So  do  I." 

"  I'm  glad  he  didn't,"  said  Mrs.  Casey.  "  I  feel 
mighty  bad  about  the  horse,  for  I  liked  to  ride  him 
as  well  as  Jack  does.  An'  I  don'  know  how  we'll 
ever  make  another  crap  without  him.     But  ef  Jack 


The  Soldier's  Farewell  23 

had  a-shot  one  o'  them  rebs,  I  don'  know  what  we'd 
had  to  suffer.  We're  puttin'  up  with  enough  as  it 
is." 

"  Do  you  reckon,  Jack,  that  Marshall  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  Not  all  of  it,  I  reckon,  but  he's  got  a  finger  in 
it,  shore.  Ever  sence  he  jined  the  rebs  las'  month, 
he's  ben  a-ridin'  round,  huntin'  down  Union  men, 
an'  makin'  'em  take  the  oath." 

"  I  don't  reckon  he'll  kill  more  men  as  a  sojer 
than  he  would  as  a  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Casey,  with 
scorn. 

"  Did  Steph  Crowell  take  the  oath  ?  " 

"  No ;  they  brought  him  up,  but  he  proved  that 
he  voted  for  separation,  and  they  let  him  off." 

"  Dave  Travers  took  hit,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  says  he  tuck  it  '  from  the  teeth  out.' 
He  had  to  do  it  or  leave  home,  one,  an'  his  pap  is 
dyin'  of  a  cancer,  an'  his  ma  is  mighty  triflin',  you 
know,  sence  that  time  she  got  throwed  off  a  horse 
goin'  to  mill." 

"  Hit  was  a  mighty  hard  place  to  put  Dave.  I 
won't  jedge  him.  But  I  hain't  got  nary  tooth  in  my 
head  that'll  take  an  oath  to  support  Jeff  Davis.  I 
wonder  how  much  more  o'  this  we  gotter  stand  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  know  how  much  more  I'm  goin'  to 
stand.     I   hain't  a-goin'  to  stand  no  more." 

"  What  you  goin'  to  do.  Hank  ?  " 

"  I'm  goin'  to  enlist." 

"  Not  with  the  rebs  ?  " 

"  Not  much  !  " 

"  How  you  goin'  to  git  to  the  Union  army  ?  " 

"  I'm  goin'  to  Kaintuck." 


24  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Kin  you  enlist  thar  ?  I  heerd  Gov'nor  McGof- 
fin'  was  for  the  rebs,  an'  is  keepin'  the  State  in  an 
armed  neutraHty,  as  he  calls  hit." 

"  Gov'nor  McGoffin's  for  the  rebs.  An'  so  is 
the  State  Guard.  But  the  Legislatur  is  for  the 
Union." 

"  Ef  ourn  had  a  ben  we'd  a  had  a  different  sort 
o'  things  round  here  now." 

"Yes,  they  sold  us  out,  the  skunks  !  Atter  we'd 
voted  the  hull  State,  twenty  thousand  majority  for 
the  Union,  too  !  " 

"  I'd  like  to  make  them  hide  out  the  way  we 
hatter  !      But  how  about  Kaintuck  ?  " 

"  Wall,  the  Blue  Grass  thar  is  secesh,  same  as 
West  Tennessy  is.  But  the  mountings  is  fur  the 
Union,  same's  here.  An'  they're  goin'  to  raise 
troops,  an'  let  the  Gov'nor  go  to  grass." 

"  How'd  you  hear  ?  " 

"  I  heerd  at  Rutledge  to-day.  I  heerd  a  heap 
more.  ZoUicoffer's  goin'  to  invade  Kaintuck,  as  I 
was  jes'  tellin'  your  ma  afore  you  come  up ;  an'  ef 
ary  Union  man  wants  to  git  through  Cumberland 
Gap,  he's  got  to  make  tracks  right  off." 

"  Well,  I'd  be  mighty  glad  to  hev  him  invade 
Kaintuck,  or  any  other  place,  so's  to  git  shet  of  him 
here,"  said  Mrs.  Casey.  "'Pears  like  we've  hed 
our  sheer  o'  the  rebs." 

"  He  hain't  a-goin'  to  leave  hyur  fur  good  'n'  all, 
they  say.  He's  a-goin'  to  hold  Knoxville,  but  push 
on  an'  git  the  Gap,  an'  then  sorter  look  the  ground 
over,  an'  ef  all's  well,  he's  a-goin'  to  move  over  into 
Kaintuck." 

"How'd  you  hear  tell  o'  all  this  ?" 


The  Soldier's  Farewell 


25 


.  "  Parson  Brownlow,  he  sent  word  to  Judge  Green 
in  Rutledge  that  ef  ary  Union  man  round  here 
wanted  to  git  inter  Kaintuck  he'd  hev  to   hustle." 

"They  hain't  killed  Brownlow  yit?" 

"  No,  he's  alive  an'  a-kickin',  an'  a-printin'  the 
JVhig^  same's  ever." 

"  I  didn't  'low  ZollicofFer'd  let  him  print  it  atter 
he  tuck  Knoxville." 

"Wall,  Zollicoffer's  a  Whig  himself,  they  say,  an' 
he  used  to  be  a  printer,  an'  sot  type  in  Knoxville, 
'fore  he  got  to  be  a  reb  an'  a  gin'ral.  They  say 
he's  ben  right  good  to  Parson  Brownlow,  an'  pro- 
tected his  office.  But  they  can't  bell  that  oie  cat 
so's  but  wut  he'll  spit  an'  show  his  claws  at  the  rebs." 

"  I  didn't  reckon  ZollicofFer  would  protect  no- 
body," interposed  Mrs.  Casey. 

"  Wall,  he  hain't  hurt  hisself  a-protectin'  Union 
folks  out  in  the  mountains,  that's  a  fack." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  he  hed.  He  lets  his  sojers 
overrun  the  kentry,  robbin'  smoke-houses,  stealin' 
chickens,  arrestin'  Union  men,  skeerin'  women  to 
death,  destroyin'  craps,  an'  stealin'  bosses.  I  hain't 
hardly  knowed  how  a  bed  felt  sence  he  got  to 
Knoxville,"  said  Jack. 

"  Wall,  's  fur's  the  arrestin's  concerned,  an' 
makin'  folks  take  the  oath,  it's  him's  a-doin'  hit, 
matter  o'  cose.  An'  they  hain't  no  lack  o'  men 
like  Marshall  to  sick  him  on  to  men  they  hate. 
But  the  fellers  was  a-sayin'  to-day  that  a  heap  o'  the 
stealin'  he  don't  know  about." 

"  He'd  orter  know." 

"  Wall,  I  ain't  a-sayin'  as  how  he  don't.  But  the 
fellers  was  a-sayin'    as   how    Brownlow   wrote    that 


26  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

ZollicofFer  hisself  hain't  so  bad  a  feller,  but  he's  on 
a  bad  side.  But  'tain't  wise  fur  us  to  stay  hyur. 
I  gotter  git  on.  Like's  not  some  Johnny'll  be 
a-sneakin'  up  on  us  hyur.  I'm  goin'  to  Kaintuck 
an'  'list.  The  day  atter  the  August  election  the 
Union  men  from  Kaintuck  commenced  a-getherin' 
at  Camp  Dick  Robinson,  in  Garrard  County,  an'  a 
heap  o'  fellers  from  East  Tennessy  is  a-getherin'  at 
Camp  Nelson,  clost  by  on  the  Kaintuck  River.  I'm 
a-goin'  to  start  to-night." 

"  Foot  or  hossback  ?  " 

"  Hossback.     Don'  you  want  ter  go  'long  ?  " 

"  I  hain't  got  no  horse,  an'  I  didn't  'low  ter  leave 
mother." 

" 'Tis  too  bad  'bout  you  a-losin'  of  yer  horse." 

"Say,  Hank.     Is  yer  pap  a-goin'  ?"  asked  Jack. 

"  He's  mighty  anxious  to,  but  ma  teases  him  not- 
ter.  I  don't  'low  he  will  jes'  yit.  You  heerd  tell, 
didn't  you,  'bout  arrestin'  Preacher  Tate  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't.     Wut's  thet  fur  ? " 

"  Wy,  Sunday  week  he  was  holdin'  meetin'  at 
the  Barren  Forks,  an'  he  prayed  fur  the  Union. 
They've  tuck  him  to  jail  to   Knoxville  ! " 

"The  infernal  hounds!"  cried  Jack.  "An'  he 
a'  ole  man,  too." 

"Yes,  an'  they've  'rested  another  ole  Babtist. 
preacher  over  in  Campbell.  They  was  some  fellers 
goin'  by  to  git  into  Kaintuck  an'  'list.  An'  wen 
they  went  pas'  the  ole  man's  door,  one  o'  the  fellers 
pulled  a  flag  out  from  under  his  shirt,  were  he'd 
ben  a-hidin'  hit,  feelin'  sorter  safe  'caze  he  was  git- 
tin'  nigh  the  Gap,  an'  they  knowed  the  ole  man  was 
Union,  an'  they  shuck  the  flag  towards  the  house. 


The  Soldier's   Farewell  2^ 

The  ole  man  was  a-settin'  on  his  porch,  a-readin'  his 
Bible,  an'  wen  he  seed  the  flag,  he  jumped  up  an' 
cheered.  That's  ole  man  Post.  They  tuck  him 
ter  Knoxville,  too." 

"  I  hain't  but  mighty  little  use  fur  the  Babtists," 
said  Mrs.  Casey;  "but  to  put  a  minister  o'  the 
Gospel  in  jail,  an'  fur  cheerin'  the  flag  !  Wicked 
men  is  waxin'  wuss  an'  wuss,  'cordin'  to  Scriptur." 

"Wall,  Jack,  I  gotter  go.  I  don'  know's  I'll 
ever  see  you  agin." 

"  Hole  on,  Hank.  Hit  'tain't  right  to  hang 
onter  yer.  But  I  want  to  ast  you  a  little  more. 
Do  you  reckon  ef  I  should  go  yer  pap  cud  sorter 
look  atter  mother.?  " 

"  Wy,  sartin  he  could,  ef  he  kin  look  atter  his 
own  folks." 

"  O  Jack ! "  cried  Mrs.  Casey,  "  you  hain't 
a-goin'  ?  Don'  leave  me  here  alone  amongst  the 
rebs  !  " 

"  I  hate  to  do  it,  ma.  I  hate  it  powerful.  But 
what  kin  I  do  ?     I  hain't  a-goin'  to  hide  out  furever." 

"  The  rebs  is  a-goin'  inter  Kaintuck,  didn't  Henry 
say  r 

"  Yes,  but  that  won't  do  us  no  good.  They'll 
leave  some  on  'em  here,  an'  they  won't  be  no 
peace  fur  no  man  that  kin  fight  till  he  gits  out 
er  hyur." 

"  But  I'm  all  alone.  Jack,  an'  a-gittin'  old." 

"  Hank,"  said  Jack,  suddenly,  "  this  here  is 
somethin'  ma  an'  me  has  gotter  fight  out  alone. 
Ef  I  kin  go,  I  wanter  go  with  you.  Wut  time'll 
yer  start  ?  " 

"  Soon's  it  gits  good  'n'  dark.     Ef  you  kin  come. 


28  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

we'll  ride  an'  tie,  an'  'twon't  take  us  many  days  to 
git  than" 

"  Wall,  don'  wait  fur  me.  Ef  I  kin  come,  I'll 
be  thar.      Goin'  to  take  shootin'  arms  ?  " 

"  No,  We  hain't  got  but  the  rifle  gun,  an'  pa 
mought  need  hit.  Besides,  ef  we  should  be  ketched, 
hit  'tain't  pleasant  for  Union  men  to  be  found  under 
arms." 

"  I  reckon  ef  I  go  I'd  best  leave  my  rifle  fur  ma," 
said  Jack. 

"  Like's  not  she  mought  need  hit,  an'  ef  we  git 
through,  the  gov'maint'll  furnish  us  with  guns. 
Good-by.     Hope  you  kin  go." 

"  Good-by.  Ef  I  kin,  I'll  be  thar  soon  atter 
dark." 

"  Oh,  say.  Jack  !  Wy,  ef  you  don  t  go,  you  know. 
Wy,  hit's  sorter  unsartin  you  know  about  me.  An' 
ef  I  shouldn't  git  back,  wy,  you  know,  you'll  sorter 
look  atter  pap,  won't  you  ?  You  know  he's  sorter 
outspoken,  an'  hain't  allers  prudent.  An'  thar's 
ma  and  the  gals,  too.  But  ef  you  do  go,  wy  pap'U 
do  all  he  kin  fur  your  ma." 

"  Good-by,  Hank.  But  I've  sorter  got  an  idy 
I'll  mebby  be  with  yer." 

"  Good-by,  Jack ;  I  hope  so." 

Jack  Casey  stood  watching  his  friend  out  of  sight, 
while  his  mother  stood  beside  him,  leaning  her  head 
upon  the  top  rail  of  the  low  fence.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  Jack  turned  and  faced  his  mother. 
They  were  simple  people,  with  little  sense  of  the 
dramatic,  and  no  thought  of  the  heroic  as  related 
to  their  poor,  obscure  lives.  There  was  little  that 
to  outward  gaze  seemed  picturesque  or  interesting. 


The  Soldier's  Farewell  29 

They  were  both  roughly  clad  in  homespun,  he  in 
jeans,  and  his  mother  in  a  tow  dress  of  her  own 
weaving,  colored  an  uncertain  shade  with  native 
dyes.  It  hung  loosely  upon  her,  and  was  made 
with  regard  to  economy  of  material.  She  wore  a 
checked  apron,  and  carried  in  her  hand  a  collapsible 
sunbonnet,  which,  with  regard  to  conventionalities, 
she  had  taken  with  her  to  the  road,  but  which  now 
lay  beside  her  on  the  fence.  Even  in  her  weeping 
she  had  thought  to  move  it  a  little  to  protect  it 
from  her  tears,  and  had  buried  her  face  in  her 
apron.  She  now  raised  her  head,  gave  her  eyes  a 
final  wiping,  twisted  up  her  back  hair,  which  had 
fallen  down,  and  secured  it  in  place  with  a  horn 
comb. 

"  You're  goin',  be  ye.  Jack  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  so,  ma.  I  didn't  want  ter  say  so 
squar  out  'fore  Hank.  I  'lowed  mebby  you'd 
sorter  ruther  lemme  say  hit  fus'  to  you  wen  we's  by 
ourselves." 

"  I  knowed  that  was  why,  Jack.  You're  a  good 
boy.  Boys  don'  know  how  much  their  mothers 
keers  fur  'em.  Jack.  Not  allers,  thet  is.  I  reckon 
you  know  more'n  a  heap  o'  boys.  They  hain't  no 
use  in  takin'  on  about  it.  Ef  yer  gotter  go,  wy  yer 
gotter  go,  an'  I'll  see  to  things  the  bes'  I  kin. 
They  hain't  no  stock  to  look  atter  like  they  used 
to  be." 

"  Darn  the  rebs  fur  stealin'  on  'em  !  "  interpolated 
Jack. 

"  Don'  swear.  Jack.  Hit  don'  do  no  good.  But 
I  reckon.  Jack,  you're  goin'  to  be  with  me  sech  a 
leetle  wile,  —  you  needn't  hide  out  the  res'  o'  the 


30  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

evenin'  till  dark,  need  yer  ?  I'd  sorter  like  to  have 
yer  'round  while  I  kin  hev  yer." 

"  No,  ma.  I'll  resk  it.  Hit's  a-gittin'  sorter 
late'n  the  day  now.  The  sun's  gittin'  sorter  low. 
They'll  be  some  little  things  to  do." 

"  Less  do  'em  together,  Jack." 

"  Wall,  I  'lowed  to  go  through  the  corn  an'  see 
ef  they  hain't  a  ear  here  'n'  thar  thet  I  kin  pick  an' 
hide  back  in  the  cave.  An'  I  did  'low  ter  grabble 
the  'taters,  an'  take  the  biggest  ones  an'  hide  thar,  too. 
They's  one  ham  an'  a  side  o'  bacon  an'  some  squashes 
thar  aready.  I  jis'  wanter  leave  whatever  they  is 
whar  you  kin  git  it,  an'  not  no  one  else." 

"  They  hain't  time  to  grabble  the  'taters.  Jack. 
But  we  mought  look  through  the  corn.  We  kin 
take  it  row  'n'  row  together,  an'  hit  won't  take  long, 
an'  we  kin  sorter  visit  wile  we  kin  visit,  an'  you 
won't  be  much  in  sight  in  the  corn." 

It  was  all  too  short  a  task,  and  finished  before  the 
sun  was  down.  The  corn  was  just  beginning  to 
ripen,  and  the  ears  that  might  be  picked  were  few  and 
small ;  but  these  they  gathered,  and  laid  at  the  end 
of  the  rows,  and  later  Jack  carried  them  to  the  cave, 
while  his  mother  cooked  for  him  a  few  —  a  very 
few  —  of  the  slices  of  the  precious  bacon,  and  baked 
for  his  use  four  hard  corn  pones.  It  was  all  she 
could  spare,  and  more  than  Jack  would  consent  to 
take.     But  she  insisted,  and  he  took  them. 

They  talked  little,  and  what  they  said  was  mostly 
about  commonplace  matters.  As  fast  as  potatoes 
got  large  enough,  she  would  grabble  them,  and  take 
them  to  the  cave.  As  fast  as  corn  ripened,  she 
would  pick   it  and  hide  it  there.     She  would  also 


The  Soldier's   Farewell  3 1 

take  there  the  blankets  from  Jack's  bed,  lest  her 
apparent  surplus  should  tempt  some  soldier  beyond 
what  he  was  able  to  bear.  Indeed,  she  would  take 
there  a  number  of  articles  counted  superfluities,  and 
hold  the  cave  in  readiness  for  a  dwelling  and  a  fort 
if  she  should  have  need.  The  gun  they  hid  under 
the  floor  of  the  house,  carefully  wrapped  to  pre- 
serve it  from  dampness  ;  and  Jack  charged  Eliza- 
beth not  to  surrender  it,  but  if  need  were,  to  hide 
that  also  in  the  cave.  There,  on  a  pinch,  she  could 
live  for  a  time,  if  the  house  should  be  burned.  But 
this  was  deemed  improbable,  especially  after  Jack 
was  gone. 

"  I  reckon  I'm  safer  without  you,  Jack,  sorter," 
she  said.  "  They  won't  hurt  a  pore  ole  woman,  an' 
they  don'  bear  no  gredge  agin  me." 

"You'll  be  all  right,  ma.  An'  in  about  a  month 
we'll  come  a-marchin'  down  through  the  Gap,  an' 
we'll  drive  ZoUicoffer  back  a  heap  faster'n  he  come. 
An'  some  day  you'll  be  a-lookin'  down  the  road,  an' 
you'll  see  a  cloud  o'  dust,  an'  you'll  say,  '  I  wonder 
wut  on  airth  is  a-comin','  an'  atter  a  wile  you'll  see 
it's  somethin'  blue.  An'  then  you'll  see  it's  sojers. 
An'  then  we'll  come  by,  with  the  drum  a-playin' 
'Yankee  Doodle,'  an'  the  flag  a-flyin',  an'  you'll 
come  down  to  the  fence  whar  you  cried  to-day,  an' 
you'll  see  me  an'  you'll  see  the  flag,  an'  you'll  wave 
yer  sunbonnet  an'  cheer.  'Pears  like  I  kin  'mos' 
hear  you  now,  ma,  the  way  you'll  do  when  you  see 
us  a-comin'  back,  the  rebs  a-runnin',  full  hickory, 
an'  we  chasin'  'em  down  the  road,  an'  you  out  thar 
a-cheerin'  me  an'  the  flag,  an'  nary  reb  a-darin'  to 
sass  you." 


32  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  I  reckon  so,  Jack.  Be  ye  right  sure  you'll 
come  back  ?  " 

"  Why,  matter  o'  cose  we'll  come  back.  The 
hull  mountains  is  fur  Lincoln  an'  the  Union.  Wen 
we  git  out  thar  into  the  open,  an'  git  our  guns  an' 
uniforms  an'  things,  you  better  b'lieve  we'll  come 
back  !  " 

This  ought  to  have  encouraged  Mrs.  Casey,  but 
someway  the  uncertainty  about  the  return  was  the 
thought  that  was  uppermost  in  her  mind.  She  had 
borne  it  like  a  Spartan  mother,  ever  since  her  first 
breakdown,  but  now  she  burst  into  tears  again. 

"  O  Jack  !  My  pore  boy  !  My  only  child  ! 
Mus'  ye  go  ?  My  baby.  Jack,  ye  don'  seem  to  me 
har'ly  bigger'n  you  was  wen  I  useter  sing  you 
to  sleep,  an'  you  was  roun*  the  floor  an'  under  my 
feet.  I  hater  rub  my  eyes  an'  look  twicet  at  you 
to  make  hit  seem  like  you're  a  man.  O  Jack,  I 
know  I'm  a  pore,  foolish  ole  woman,  an'  I  hadn't 
orter  cry.  Hit  hain't  thet  I'm  skeered  to  be  left 
alone,  though  it  hain't  real  pleasant  with  them  rebs 
all  round  a-plunderin'  an'  a-burnin'.  But,  O  Jack, 
O  my  boy !  'Pears  jes'  lack  I  wanter  take  yer 
right  in  my  arms  an'  hole  you  like  I  useter,  an' 
say  I   cyan't  let  yer  go." 

"  Don'  take  on,  ma,  now  don't.  I  got  jes'  about 
all  I  kin  stan'  up  under  now.  I'm  a-grittin'  my 
teeth  to  keep  from  sayin'  how  I  hate  to  leave  you 
alone.  But  they  hain't  no  way  to  stay  an'  be  at 
peace,  only  jes'  to  take  the  oath.  A  heap  is  a-takin' 
hit  '  from  the  teeth  out,'  but  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  swar 
to  no  lies." 

"  No,  Jack,  ye  hain't.     An'   I   hain't  a-goin'  to 


The  Soldier's  Farewell  ^3 

hev  you  a-hidin'  out  forever,  nuther,  an'  ketchin' 
yer  death  wen  the  cold  nights  come.  Hit's  bad 
enough  in  summer.  They'll  hev  dry  places  fur  the 
sojers  to  sleep,  I  reckon,  won't  they.  Jack  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sartin.  An'  then  hit  hain't  a-goin'  to  las' 
long.  All  we  gotter  do  is  to  git  up  thar  an'  tell 
'em  how  East  Tennessy  is  loyal,  an'  the  people 
jes'  waitin'  fur  the  ole  flag,  and  they'll  send  us  right 
back  with  a  heap  more,  an'  we'll  hold  East  Ten- 
nessy in  the  Union." 

"  I  reckon  so,  Jack.  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  hang 
enter  yer.  Go  an'  do  yer  duty,  lack  your  pa  would 
a  done." 

"  Hit's  gittin'  dark  mighty  fast,  ma." 

"Yes.  'Pears  lack  I  never  seed  dark  come  on 
so  quick  atter  the  sun  went  down.  You  don' 
reckon  hit's  time  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  it  is,  ma.  I'd  best  be  a-goin'.  You 
bes'  keep  some  o'  them  pones." 

"  No,  Jack.  You  take  'em.  Mus'  yer  be  a-goin'  ? 
Good-by,  Jack.  An',  Jack,  wen  you  git  away  off, 
an'  you  lay  down  at  night  to  sleep,  you  wanter 
think.  Jack,  says  you,  '  Ma's  a-prayin'  fur  me,'  says 
you.  An'  wen  yer  git  inter  battle,  an'  hit  'pears 
lack  yer  cyan't  do  wut  the  gin'r'l  hollers  out  fur  yer 
ter  do,  jus'  says  you  to  yerself,  '  Ma's  a-prayin'  fur 
me,'  says  you,  an'  you  go  ahead  an'  do  yer  duty. 
An'  ef  there's  ary  rough  fellers  in  the  Lincoln  army, 
like  a  heap  o'  the  rebs,  that's  drinkin'  an'  swearin' 
an'  gittin'  inter  devilmaint,  an'  they  want  yer  ter  go 
with  'em,  you  jes'  says,  '  No,'  says  you,  an'  ef  they 
keep  sorter  urgin'  you,  an'  a-pesterin'  you  so's  you 
sorter  feel  lack  doin'  on  it  with  'em,  says  you  to 


34  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

yourself,  '  Ma's  a-prayin'  fur  me,'  says  you.  An' 
hit'll  be  so.  Fur  they  won't  be  no  wakin'  hour, 
day  nor  night,  that  God  a-lookin'  down  inter  my 
heart,  an'  a-listenin'  to  hear  ef  I've  got  somethin'  er 
other  ter  ast  him,  won't  hear  me  a-prayin'  fur  you, 
ter  help  yer  to  be  brave  and  clean  an'  true,  an'  spar 
yer  life,  an'   fetch  yer  back.     Good-by,  Jack." 

"  Good-by,  ma.  I  won't  do  nothin'  that  I 
wouldn't  do  ef  you  was  thar  or  God." 

"  I  know  you  won't.  Jack,  Good-by.  Now 
you'll  hatter  hurry,  cause  hit's  gittin'  mighty  dark, 
an'  Henry  won't  wait." 

He  slipped  out  of  the  back  door  and  pushed  the 
latch-string  in.  She  stood  with  her  head  bowed 
against  the  door  until  the  sound  of  his  feet  had 
died  out,  and  then  pushed  the  leather  string  through 
the  hole  again,  and,  raising  the  latch,  crept  out  after 
him.  She  was  too  late  to  overtake  him,  but  she 
slipped  along  the  path  that  he  had  trodden  in  his 
leaving,  hoping  to  come  near  enough  to  hear  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps  again  without  being  heard. 
But  he  had  gone  rapidly,  and  she  went  slowly  and 
quietly  lest  he  should  know  that  she  had  done  so 
foolish  a  thing.  She  followed  him  nearly  to  the 
house  of  Henry  Hanson,  and  saw,  as  she  came  in 
sight  of  it,  the  light  of  the  fire  shine  out  for  a 
moment  as  the  door  swung  and  some  one  entered. 
She  waited,  and  after  a  time  saw  it  open  again,  and 
two  or  three  figures,  she  was  not  sure  which,  slipped 
out.  She  wanted  to  go  nearer,  but  feared  to  be 
seen,  and  felt  sure  that  Jack  would  be  ashamed  if 
she  should  be  detected  in  such  an  act  of  folly. 
Sadly  she  took  her  way  back  home,  and,  lifting  the 


The  Soldier's   Farewell  ;^^ 

latch,  entered  the  house  that  was  left  unto  her 
desolate,  and  pulled  in  the  latch-string.  And  then 
she  dropped  into  a  chair  in  the  chimney  corner, 
and  her  face  sank  between  her  knees,  and  she 
poured  out  a  mother's  grief  and  loneliness  in 
prayers  and  tears  for  her  boy  who  had  left  her  to 
fight  for  the  Union. 


Ill 

To  Fight  for  the  Flag 

IT  was  a  clear  night,  when  summer  was  just 
sobering  into  autumn,  that  Henry  Hanson 
and  Jack  Casey  started  on  their  lonely  journey 
through  the  wilderness  into  Kentucky.  Jacob 
slipped  out  with  them,  and  went  a  mile  on  the  way. 

He  gave  them  many  directions,  which  were  al- 
most superfluous,  for  they  were  accustomed  to  find- 
ing their  way  through  the  woods,  and  knew  well  the 
first  twenty  miles  of  the  road. 

"  You'll  know  Powell's  River,"  said  he.  "  Hit 
runs  along  the  ridge-pole  o'  the  rocks,  sorter  lack 
the  rocks  had  fell  down,  an'  stood  up  like  the  roof 
o'  the  house,  an'  the  water  runs  down  the  ridge-pole, 
stidder  down  the  shingles.  Hit's  a  mighty  quare 
trick  the  water  plays  thar.  Wen  you  come  to  that, 
you're  right  under  the  shadder  of  the  big  Cumber- 
land Mounting.  The  three  States  corners  right  in 
the  Gap.  You  bar  up  stream  to  the  right  inter  the 
pint  o'  V'ginny,  whar  it  comes  in  like  a  smoothin' 
iron,  and  work  up  round  the  hill.  Soon's  you're 
through  the  Gap,  you're  safe  in  Kaintuck." 

"We  won't  hev  no  trouble  thet  fur,"  said  Jack. 
"  I've  ben  to  the  Gap  myself  twicet,  but  it  was  by 
Rutledge  an'  Tasewell." 

"  You  mus'n't  go  thataway  to-night,  ye  know. 
'Tain't  safe.      But  hit'll   give  ye  the  gin'r'l  /dy,  to 

36 


To   Fight  for  the  Flag  37 

have  went.  Wen  ye  git  to  Kaintuck  ye  can't  miss 
it.  Yaller  Creek  heads  up  at  the  Gap.  Foller  hit 
down.  They  hain't  no  trouble  to  foller  down 
stream.  Then  cross  the  Log  Mounting  an'  go  by 
Cumberland  Ford,  Barboursville,  Mount  Vernon, 
an'  Crab  Orchard  to  the  Kaintuck  River.  Camp 
Nelson  is  on  the  river." 

"What  ef  Zollicoffer  has  scouts  ahead,  an'  we 
can't  go  by  the  Ford  ?  " 

"  Then  you  gotter  bar  to  the  right,  around  through 
Harlan  an'  Clay,  an'  keep  on  till  you  come  to  the 
head  waters  of  the  Kaintuck  River,  an'  foller  them 
down.  That's  a  long  way  'round.  But  ef  ye  hatter 
go  thataway,  you  mought  find  hit  easy  to  go  by 
Roundstone,  an'  see  yer  kinfolks." 

"  We'll  git  thar  all  right." 

"  Wall,  keep  together.  Don't  try  no  ride  an'  tie 
bus'ness.  You'll  git  your  horse  stole,  shore's  you're 
a  foot  high.  Jes'  let  Bill  jog  'long,  single  footed, 
one  o'  you  ridin'  an'  t'other  holdin'  to  the  stirrup 
leather,  an'  change  wunct  in  a  while.  You  hain't 
got  no  high  water  to  ford  except  the  Cumberland, 
an'  that  hain't  high  now." 

"  I  wisht  we  could  tote  our  guns  along,"  said  Jack. 

"  No  ye  don't  nuther.  You'd  git  yourselves 
inter  trouble  fust  thing.  Guns  sorter  encourages 
fellers  to  run  their  head  inter  trouble.  Keep  outer 
trouble  till  you  git  to  whar  you  kin  'list,  an'  then 
make  all  the  trouble  you  kin.  Ef  you  meet  any 
rebs,  and  they  hold  ye  up,  ye  kin  swar  you're 
goin'  to  visit  kinfolks  on  Roundstone,  an'  then  go. 
Don't  fail  to  go  ef  ye  say  you're  goin'  ter." 

Even   in   such   a    time    Jacob    Hanson    had    his 


3 8  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

standard  of  ethics,  which,  however  it  might  be 
judged  by  moralists,  was  sacred  to  him. 

"  Wall,  good-by,  boys.  I  wisht  I  cud  go,  too. 
Mebby  I'll  hatter  go.  I'm  above  the  age,  but  ef 
things  keeps  on  as  they're  goin'  hyur,  I  may  be  with 
you  yet.  Be  brave,  an'  do  yer  duty,  an'  ef  ever  you 
gitter  whar  you  kin  see  the  flag  again,  don't  never 
turn  yer  back  on  hit,  or  ye  hain't  no  boys  o'  mine." 

They  promised  and  were  gone.  The  old  man 
choked  a  little  as  he  bade  them  good-by,  and  the 
boys  were  silent  after  he  had  turned  back.  For 
half  the  night  they  rode  across  the  hills  through  a 
rough  and  sparsely  peopled  region.  At  first  one 
rode  and  the  other  walked,  but  their  progress  was 
so  slow,  and  the  horse  already  so  tired  from  his 
long  ride  to  Rutledge  and  return,  that  much  of  the 
time  they  both  walked.  About  midnight  they 
passed  a  corn  field,  and  with  the  first  suggestion  of 
lawlessness  born  of  their  new  position  as  guardians 
of  the  law,  they  crossed  the  fence  and  secured  a  feed 
for  Bill,  and  while  he  ate,  they  picked  a  dozen 
additional  ears,  which  they  tied  together  by  the 
husks,  and  laid  across  the  saddle. 

"  Thar's  two  more  feeds,"  said  Henry,  "  case  we 
should  need  'em." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack  ;  "  but  Hank,  hain't  this  steal- 
m  r 

"  No,  Jack.  Hit  makes  a  feller  feel  sorter  ef  it  was. 
But  they's  another  name  fur  it  wen  you  git  to  fightin' 
fur  yer  country.  Hit's  con-somethin'.  Confist — 
confisticate.    Oh,  now  I  got  it !    Hit's  confisticatin' ! " 

"  Wall,  I'm  mighty  glad  ef  it  ain't  stealin',  but 
I'll  be  hanged  ef  it  seems  much  diff'rent." 


To   Fight  for  the  Flag  39 

"  Wall,  that's  because  you  don't  own  the  horse. 
A  marciful  man  is  marciful  to  his  beastis.  An'  ef 
the  rebs  hadn't  a  stole  from  us,  we  mought  a 
brought  more  with  us." 

As  it  grew  light,  they  saw  plainly  that  they  were 
not  out  of  danger.  The  roads  gave  evidence  of  the 
passing  of  large  numbers  of  men.  It  began  to  look 
as  if  their  start  toward  Kentucky  had  been  too 
tardy. 

They  came  to  a  forest,  and  turned  aside  into  the 
woods  to  rest  and  reconnoitre.  They  removed  the 
saddle  and  bridle  from  Bill,  and  fed  him  half  of 
the  precious  corn  which  they  had  confiscated,  prob- 
ably from  a  Union  man  like  themselves.  Bill  ate 
the  corn  and  husks,  and  contentedly  nibbled  the 
grass.  They  replaced  the  bridle,  with  the  bit  out, 
and  fastened  Bill  to  a  swinging  limb,  where  he  had  a 
radius  of  several  yards  grazing  at  his  will,  and,  after 
nibbling  a  little  of  their  corn  pone,  lay  down  with 
their  heads  upon  the  saddle  for  a  pillow  and  their 
feet  pointing  in  opposite  directions,  and  fell  asleep. 

"  Surrender !  " 

Jack  and  Henry  awoke  with  a  start,  and  rose  to 
a  sitting  posture.  Over  them  stood  a  Confederate 
soldier  in  butternut,  with  bayonet  on  his  gun. 

"  S'render  ^  "  he  asked. 

"  We  hain't  got  no  call  ter  surrender,"  said  Jack. 
"  We  hain't  sojers." 

"  No,  nur  you  hain't  a-goin'  ter  be,  nuther.  I 
know  wut  sorter  fellows  you  be,  I  do.  You  think 
you're  goin'  over  inter  Kaintuck  ter  'list,  don't 
yer : 

They  were  both  silent.     Then  Henry  said, 


40  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  We  'lowed  to  go  inter  Kaintuck  ter  visit  some 
kinfolks  we  got  over  tliar," 

"  Yas,  1  reckon  so.  Did  ye  'low  ter  go  foot  or 
hossback  ?  " 

"We  both  'lowed  to  ride,  ofF'n'  on." 

"  Wall,  ye  won't  be  on  so  much  as  off  from 
now  on.  Putt  the  saddle  on  that  critter.  I 
reckon  /'//  ride  now.  You  fellers  got  ary  shootin' 
arn  r 

"  Nary  one." 

"  Wall,  slip  the  bits  inter  that  critter's  mouth,  an' 
putt  the  saddle  on  him,  an'  I'll  see  wut  fur  beast  he 
ister  ride." 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  and  they  sorrowfully 
prepared  Bill  for  a  new  master. 

"  Got  some   corn,  too,  hain't   ye  ?     Stole   hit,  I 

reckon  ?     Wall,  I  hain't  p'tic'lar,  seein'  'twarn't  me 

as    did    hit.      I've   got   a   sorter   tender  conscience 

myself,  an'  never  steal   nothin'  smaller  'n   a   hoss. 

Lead  him  up  hyur.     Now  stan  off  that,  wile  I  git 

>> 
up. 

He  mounted,  and  tested  the  length  of  the  stirrups. 

"Too  short,"  he  said.  "  Don't  you  fellers  come 
no  nearder.      Move  off  a  little." 

They  started  slowly  away,  and  seeing  him  dis- 
mount without  keeping  his  eye  on  them,  they  were 
seized  with  a  sudden  impulse. 

"  Less  git.  Hank  !  " 

"  Go  ahead  !  "  They  made  a  wild  break  for  free- 
dom, rushing  through  the  bushes,  and  down  into  a 
ravine.  They  had  gone  a  matter  of  six  rods  before 
the  Confederate  noticed  their  departure. 

"  Hole  on  thar !  "  he  called,  but  not  very  loudly. 


To  Fight  for  the   Flag  41 

"  Halt,  or  I'll  shoot,"  he  called,  seeing  that  they 
did  not  stop, 

"  Keep  on.  Hank  !  "  called  Jack. 

"  I'm  a-comin'  atter  you  !  "  called  the  soldier,  and 
started  on  the  horse  down  the  ravine. 

They  redoubled  their  speed.  They  ran,  breath- 
less and  panting,  over  rocks  and  through  streams. 
They  tore  their  clothes  in  the  bushes.  They  fell 
and  rose  and  pressed  on.  They  had  gone  a  full 
mile  before  they  stopped.  Jack  was  ahead,  and  he 
gradually  slowed  up  and  let  Henry  overtake  him. 
Then  they  both  stopped. 

They  looked  about  them,  gasping  for  breath,  and 
listening  to  the  pounding  of  their  hearts  against 
their  ribs. 

"  I  reckon  we're  safe,"  said  Jack. 

"Less  stop  an'  rest,"  said  Henry.  "We  kin 
hide  here." 

They  threw  themselves  upon  the  ground  in  a 
clump  of  bushes  hard  by,  and  waited  to  get  their 
breath  and  think. 

After  a  while  Jack  said, 

"Hank." 

"  Wall  ? " 

"  We're  two  fools  for  runnin'  so." 

"  Wall,  I'm  mighty  willin'  to  run  to  git  away." 

"  That  feller  jes'  wanted  us  to  git  away.  He 
wanted  Bill,  that's  all  he  wanted." 

"  Do  you  reckon  so.  Jack  ?  " 

"  Sartin.  Ef  we'd  ben  in  uniform  he'd  arrested 
us.  Or  ef  we  hadn't  a  had  no  horse,  he'd  ast  us 
more  about  whar  we  was  goin'.  But  he  wanted  the 
horse,  and  didn't  want  to  take  no  one  inter  camp 


42  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

that  mought  hev  a  claim  on  him.  So  he  captured 
us,  an'  let  on  like  he  was  a-takin'  us  inter  camp,  an' 
then  let  us  git  away." 

"  Wall,  I  believe  you're  right !  An'  he's  got  the 
horse  !  " 

"Yes,  but  he  hain't  got  us.  It's  mighty  evident 
the  rebs  is  ahead  of  us.      Shall  we  go  back  ?  " 

"  Not  a  foot !  " 

"So  I  say.  Less  take  our  bearin's,  an'  start  sorter 
easy  like  towards  the  Gap.  Which  way  did  we 
come : 

"  Thataway." 

"  Yes,  that's  so.  Wall,  that's  up  stream.  We 
mus'  go  thataway.     Wut  time  do  ye  reckon  hit  is  ? " 

"'Bout  noon,  I  should  think.     The  sun  is  high." 

"  I  reckon  you're  right.  The  bark  grows  thicker 
on  the  other  side  of  these  big  trees.  That  mus'  be 
north." 

Thus  they  got  their  bearings,  and  kept  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  a  northeasterly  course  parallel  with 
the  river,  and  avoiding  the  road.  Their  progress 
was  slow,  but  as  the  sun  was  near  its  setting,  they 
discerned  in  the  Cumberland  range  that  towered  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  a  saddle-like  depression, 
which  they  knew  at  once  for  the  Gap.  Toward  it 
they  hastened  with  all  speed. 

In  the  twilight  they  came  to  a  ford  of  the  river. 

"I  wisht  we  hadn't  a  lost  Bill  before  we  got 
acrost,"  said  Jack. 

"  I  wisht  we  hadn't  a  lost  him  at  all,"  replied  Bill's 
sometime  owner. 

"  I  do,  too,  but  they  hain't  no  use  cryin'  over  that. 
I   hate  to  git  v«^et  afore  night.      Ef  it  was  day,  and 


To   Fight  for  the  Flag  43 

we  was  goin'  to  walk,  hit  wouldn't  matter.  But  I 
hate  to  lay  down  in  the  woods  in  wet  clothes." 

"  I  don't  reckon  we'll  lay  down  much." 

"  Wall,  less  not  git  wet  'less  we  have  to.  Less 
strip  an'  wade." 

The  suggestion  was  eminently  proper.  They  re- 
moved their  clothing,  rolled  it  into  two  wads  which 
they  could  hold  high  and  dry,  and  waded  through. 
The  river  was  not  deep,  however,  and  they  were 
only  wet  to  the  waist.  On  the  other  side  they 
replaced  their  clothing,  and,  following  a  road  that 
showed  little  sign  of  recent  travel,  they  pushed 
toward  the  Gap. 

It  was  well  past  midnight  when  they  arrived  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain.  They  attempted  to  as- 
cend on  the  Tennessee  side,  but  not  far  up  the  road 
they  were  stopped  by  the  challenge  of  a  sentinel. 
They  beat  a  precipitate  retreat,  followed  at  a  safe 
distance  by  the  sentry's  bullet. 

They  felt  that  they  must  make  the  Gap  before 
morning,  and  there  were  few  hours  left.  Depart- 
ing from  the  road,  they  climbed  the  steep  face  of 
the  mountain  to  the  Virginia  road,  which  they 
struck,  as  they  rightly  judged,  well  within  the 
sentry  lines,  and  cautiously  made  their  way  around 
the  mountain  toward  the  depression. 

"  We  mus'  keep  the  road  fur's  we  kin,"  said 
Jack,  "  an'  then  when  we  hatter  leave  hit,  take  to  the 
woods  and  cross  above  the  Gap.  We  can't  git 
through  hit." 

The  mountain  above  was  so  steep  that  any  dis- 
tance saved  in  the  almost  perpendicular  climb  was 
worth  some  risk.     So  they  cautiously  pressed  toward 


44  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

the  Gap  itself,  though  knowing  that  it  must  be  held 
by  the  Confederates,  and  that  erelong  they  must 
leave  the  road  for  a  wide  and  steep  detour  that 
should  leave  the  Gap  below  them.  The  dawn 
was  just  beginning  to  streak  the  east,  when,  cau- 
tiously turning  a  bend  in  the  road,  they  found 
themselves  face  to  face  with  a  picket.  He  was 
more  surprised  than  they,  for  there  must  have  been 
guards  below  who  should  have  stopped  any  ap- 
proach along  the  line  of  the  Virginia  road.  They 
had  turned  to  run  before  he  had  time  to  challenge 
them,  and  hard  on  the  heels  of  his  challenge  rang 
the  report  of  his  gun.  A  little  way  they  ran  down 
the  road,  and  debated  each  in  his  own  mind  as  they 
ran,  whether  they  should  turn  to  the  right  and  down 
the  hill,  where  their  better  progress  would  secure 
more  quick  seclusion,  or  up  the  face  of  the  moun- 
tain, in  the  direction  of  their  journey.  Henry 
would  have  taken  the  downhill  course  had  he  been 
in  the  lead,  but  Jack  chose  the  more  perilous  way. 
Suddenly  turning  to  the  left  across  a  narrow  level 
place  covered  with  bushes,  he  fell  into  the  mouth 
of  a  pitfall,  barely  saving  himself  as  he  fell,  by  catch- 
ing at  a  stick  that  stood  up  in  the  hole.  A  moment 
he  clung  in  hesitation.  Henry  was  hard  behind  him, 
and  not  far  back  some  soldiers  were  following. 

"Go  on  down.  Jack!"  whispered  Henry,  "an' 
I'll  foller!" 

Jack  let  go  his  hold  and  descended  the  pole, 
hand  over  hand,  finding  crotches  at  convenient  in- 
tervals. Henry  was  so  close  behind  him  that  he 
trod  on  Jack's  hands.  They  were  soon  at  the 
bottom,  and,  looking  up,  could   see    in    the   dawn 


To   Fight  for  the  Flag  45 

four  faces  that  looked  hideous  in  that  place  and 
light,  peering  after  them. 

Jack  hastily  seized  the  pole  and  drew  it  down. 
It  was  the  trunk  of  a  cedar  tree  that  had  been  made 
into  a  rude  ladder  by  the  chopping  off  of  the 
branches.  Evidently  the  cave  was  sometimes  vis- 
ited by  the  people  of  the  neighborhood,  —  boys, 
probably,  —  but  unknown  to  the  Confederate  sol- 
diers, who  were  themselves  but  newly  arrived  at 
the  Gap. 

It  was  pitch  dark  where  Jack  and  Henry  found 
themselves,  at  the  bottom  of  a  nearly  circular  and 
quite  perpendicular  hole  some  twenty  feet  in  depth. 
They  could  hear  the  falling  of  water  not  far  away, 
and  they  hardly  dared  to  stir,  lest  they  should  step 
into  some  pitfall  in  the  cave  itself;  but  they  groped 
their  way  to  a  place  against  the  wall  on  one  side 
none  too  soon,  for  their  pursuers  above,  not  daring 
to  descend  after  them,  began  to  amuse  themselves 
by  shooting  down  the  hole.  They  were  quite  out 
of  range,  however,  and  had  little  fear  that  they 
would  be  attacked.  After  waiting  until  the  voices 
above  were  heard  no  more,  they  made  cautious 
explorations,  and  found  no  other  way  out  than 
that  by  which  they  had  entered.  The  sound  of 
water  came  to  them  from  a  stream  of  considerable 
size,  with  a  mighty  fall,  not  far  back  from  the 
mouth.  They  could  go  no  farther,  and  if  the  cave 
had  other  avenues  they  failed  to  find  them. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  the  young  men  came  to 
the  place  where  the  pole  had  stood,  and  looked  up 
through  the  skylight  above.  There  was  a  draft  of 
air  there  that   made   their   teeth   chatter,  but   they 


46  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

both  remembered  that  in  the  single  instant  they 
had  stood  above  it  on  the  ground  the  ascending  air 
had  seemed  warm.  Back  from  the  mouth  it  was 
comfortable,  though  somewhat  damp.  After  wait- 
ing a  good  while,  and  seeing  no  one  above,  they 
carefully  replaced  the  pole,  and  Jack  ascended, 
while  Henry  stood  at  the  foot.  Slowly  he  raised 
his  head  above  the  opening,  and  then  drew  himself 
up  and  sat  on  the  ground  with  his  legs  in  the  cave. 
After  a  careful  reconnoitre  he  descended  and  re- 
ported. The  mouth  of  the  cave  was  not  guarded. 
Probably  the  detachment  of  troops  that  had  held 
the  Gap  the  night  before  had  moved  on,  and  a  new 
body  held  it  to-day.  There  was  a  sound  of  troops 
and  wagons  moving  up  the  road.  Evidently  Zolli- 
coffer's  army  was  marching  through  the  Gap.  The 
road  was  too  near  to  make  any  attempt  at  escape 
safe  at  present,  but  they  might  easily  get  out  later 
and  move  on. 

There  are  many  tales  that  gather  about  that  cave 
near  the  Virginia  road.  They  tell  of  men  who  hid 
there,  and  shot  their  pursuers  as  they  entered ;  of 
dark  tales  of  murder  and  of  secreted  bodies ;  of 
moonshining,  facilitated  by  the  nearness  of  the 
mouth  to  the  road,  making  the  bringing  of  corn 
an  easy  matter,  and  the  stream  of  pure  water  need- 
ful for  the  still ;  of  the  interment  there  of  men  who 
fell  in  the  war,  who  found  a  speedy  burial  in  the 
waters  of  the  cave.  How  many  beside  Jack  and 
Henry  hid  there  in  the  days  of  the  war,  no  man 
can  tell.  What  threatened  to  be  a  fatal  accident 
became  to  them  a  marked  deliverance. 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening  they  again  replaced 


To   Fight  for  the   Flag  47 

the  pole,  and  climbed  to  the  top.  They  debated 
for  a  moment  whether  to  leave  the  pole  standing, 
and  decided  to  do  so.  Then  they  began  climbing 
the  steep  side  of  the  mountain,  leaving  the  Gap  far 
below,  and  crossing  the  ridge  halfway  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  pinnacle,  on  which  later  stood  the  famous 
gun,  "  Long  Tom."  The  crossing  was  made  with- 
out incident,  and  before  the  darkness  had  fully  set 
in  they  stood  on  the  ridge,  and  looked  back  over 
the  Powell's  valley,  and  far  over  toward  the  Great 
Smoky  Mountains,  and  then  ahead,  where  there 
was  nothing  but  an  unbroken  succession  of  wooded 
hills,  without  a  human  habitation  in  sight.  But, 
thank  God,  this  was  Kentucky  ! 

They  pressed  on  that  night  and  the  next  day. 
They  hardly  stopped  to  eat  or  sleep.  They 
avoided  all  roads,  knowing  that  Zollicoffer's  men 
must  hold  them  all  the  way  to  Cumberland  Ford, 
and  probably  to  Barboursville  and  beyond.  They 
crossed  by  the  headwaters  of  the  Poor  Fork  of  the 
Cumberland,  and  over  the  great  and  lonely  Pine 
Mountain.  They  ate  the  last  of  their  pone  and 
pork.  They  gnawed  corn  from  the  cob  as  occa- 
sionally they  passed  a  field.  They  lost  count  of 
the  days,  but  later  they  found  that  since  leaving 
home  they  had  spent  eight  days  in  their  wander- 
ings, hardly  seeing,  and  ever  shunning,  the  face  of 
man.  They  came  to  the  divide,  beyond  which  the 
waters  ran  the  other  way,  and  knew  that  these  must 
be  the  tributaries  of  the  Kentucky.  Here  they 
inquired  for  Roundstone,  and  found  that  they  had 
left  it  one  side,  and  it  was  now  far  out  of  their  way. 
They    followed    the    falling    water,    and    kept    on 


48  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

toward  Camp  Nelson.  From  this  time  on  they 
had  an  unfailing  guide.  Through  four  counties 
they  followed  the  tributaries  of  the  Kentucky's 
South  Fork.  It  was  a  long  and  roundabout  way. 
On  the  morning  of  the  ninth  day  they  came  sud- 
denly upon  a  fence,  just  beyond  which  stood  a  girl, 
leaning  over  beside  a  cow,  and  holding  a  cup  in  one 
hand  while  she  milked  with  the  other.  It  was 
more  than  mortal  man  could  endure. 

"  Howdy,  miss,"  said  Jack.  "  D'ye  reckon 
you  could  give  two  pore  fellers  a  drink  o'  warm 
milk  ?  " 

She  brought  the  full  cup  to  Jack,  who  handed  it 
to  Henry. 

"  No,  you.  Jack.      I  kin  wait," 

"  Go  ahead  !  I  cain't  stand  this  much  longer  !  " 
said  Jack.  In  the  moment  that  he  smelled  that 
warm  milk,  he  knew  how  a  wolf  might  feel  in 
winter  at  the  smell  of  blood. 

Henry  drank  the  milk  and  handed  back  the 
empty  cup.     The  girl  turned  to  milk  it  full  again. 

"  Say,  miss,"  said  Jack,  "  I  hope  you  won't  think 
wrong,  but  ef  you  stop  to  milk  that  cup  full,  I'll 
jes'  go  crazy.      Dip  me  some  out  o'  the  bucket." 

She  dipped  the  cup  in  the  tin  bucket  and  brought 
it  up  level  full,  and  Jack  gulped  it  down  as  though 
famished. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he.  "  I  never  tasted  nothin' 
before  that  was  so  good." 

"  You're  right  welcome,"  said  the  girl.  "  Goin' 
to  the  army  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  you  won't  tell?" 

"  You   don'    need   to   be   skeered.      They   won't 


To  Fight  for  the  Flag  49 

nobody  hurt  ye.  That  is,  ef  it's  the  Union  army," 
she  added,  with  an  afterthought. 

"  That's  jes'  whar  we're  goin'.  Kin  you  tell  us 
whar  we  are  at  ?  " 

"  You're  in  Estill  County  now.  You're  gittin' 
near  the  blue  grass.  A  lot  of  you  Tennessee  fel- 
lers has  come  up  and  is  enlisting  at  Camp  Nelson. 
The  folks  there  is  mostly  secesh.  But  here  we're 
mostly  Union.  But  a  heap  o'  folks  here  has  got 
kinfolks  below  that's  secesh,  an'  some  on  'em  don' 
know  what  to  do.  But  they  won't  nobody  hurt 
you.  They're  goin'  to  raise  some  sojers  here,  an' 
we  women  are  goin'  to  make  a  flag  an'  give  'em." 

"  Say,  miss,"  said  Henry,  "  do  you  reckon  ary 
person  would  keer  ef  we  was  to  go  inter  the  barn 
an'  go  to  sleep  on  the  hay  ?  We've  ben  so  long 
without  a  good  night's  sleep,  'pears  like  ef  we're 
safe  now,  I  cyan't  go  nary  'nother  step  without  a 
little  nap  o'  sleep." 

"  You  kin  come  to  the  house  an'  sleep,"  she  said. 
"  Pa's  name's  Murray.  The  Murrays  are  all  for 
the  Union.  Pa  won't  let  no  man  that's  goin'  to  be 
a  Union  sojer  sleep  in  the  barn." 

They  protested,  but  she  insisted;  and  finally  she 
went  to  the  house  for  her  father,  who  came  to  the 
fence  and  invited  the  young  men  in. 

"  You'll  hev  some  breakfast  fust,  I  reckon,  an' 
then  you'll  go  to  bed." 

They  did  not  long  object,  and  gladly  ate  the  hoe- 
cake  and  bacon  that  were  set  before  them,  and  then, 
ascending  to  the  loft,  slept  until  dinner  was  ready. 
They  insisted  on  going  on  then,  but  their  hospitable 
host  refused  his  consent.     They  must  rest  that  day 


50  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

and  night,  and  next  day  he  would  take  them  a  step 
on  their  journey  and  show  them  a  nearer  route. 
They  did  so,  and  bathed  and  rested  their  sore  and 
weary  feet  and  mended  their  well-worn  shoes.  They 
enjoyed  that  night  such  sweet,  refreshing  slumber  as 
they  remembered  all  their  lives.  While  they  slept, 
the  mother  and  daughter  sewed  up  the  rents  in 
their  clothing. 

Mr.  Murray  borrowed  a  horse  from  a  neighbor, 
and  brought  his  own  two  horses  to  the  door  sad- 
dled, just  as  the  sun  was  rising.  They  were  just 
finishing  their  liberal  breakfast  when  three  men 
stopped  at  the  fence  and  asked  for  a  drink. 

"  Come  in  an'  se'  down  on  the  porch,"  said 
Mr.  Murray,  "  an'  I'll  send  for  some  water  to  the 
spring.  Becky,  fetch  me  some  cheers  here,  an' 
fetch  the  gentlemen  some  water  from  the  spring. 
Goin'  below,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  we're  goin'  to  Camp   Dick  Robinson." 
"  I  declar  !     Wall,  here's  some  men'll  like  to  go 
with  ye,  ef  ye  kin  keep  up  with  'em.     They're  a-goin' 
to  Camp  Nelson.     You're  from  Kaintucky  ^  " 
"  Yes  ;  we're  from  Roundstone." 
Jack  heard  the  name  and  stepped  out. 
"  Why,  Eph  Whitley  !      Is  this  you  ?  " 
"  Howdy,  Jack  !      What  you  doin'  here  ?     Ain't 
you  lost  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  I   be,  Hank's  los',  too.      Here  he  is." 

"  Hank,  what   in    creation    are   you   doin'   here  ? 

These    is   my    brothers.     Bill,  this   is    our   cousin, 

Henry  Hanson;  an'  this  is  my  brother  Joe.     An' 

this  is  his  friend,   Mr.  Jack  Casey." 

"  Friends,    be    ye  ?  "    asked    the    host.       "  Well, 


To  Fight  for  the  Flag  51 

this  is  lucky.  Becky,  get  these  men  somethin'  to 
eat,  right  off,  an'  we'll  start." 

"  We've  had  our  breakfast,  thank  ye,"  said  Joe, 
"  an'  we've  got  provisions  to  last  us  through. 
We've  only  walked  one  day.  Pa  fetched  us  day 
before  yistiddy  to  some  friends  foment  Boneville, 
an'  tuck  the  horses  back  from  there.  We  stayed 
there  night  afore  las'  an'  walked  acrost  the  hills  to 
save  follerin'  the  river  yistiddy.  We  stayed  back 
here  a  mile,  an'  took  a  soon  start  this  mornin'  to 
git  on  as  fur's  we  kin  to-day." 

"  Well,  you  go  right  on  with  us.  Your  friends 
here  has  been  trampin'  more'n  a  week,  an'  their  feet 
is  sorter  sore.  You'll  have  to  let  them  ride  most 
o'  the  way.  But  they'll  spell  ye  once  in  a  while, 
so's  you  kin  keep  along.  Where  everything  is 
plain  sailin',  we'll  ride  and  tie,  and  where  the  road 
is  unsartin,  we'll  keep  along  together." 

Jack  and  Henry  bade  their  new  friends  a  hearty 
good-by,  and  all  the  young  men  bowed  to  Becky 
and  her  mother,  who  came  out  to  wish  them  a 
prosperous  journey  and  a  short  and  pleasant  expe- 
rience in  camp.  The  Whitleys  had  some  provi- 
sions, but  their  hosts  insisted  that  they  should  take 
some  more  corn  pone  and  another  fried  chicken, 
which  would  be  prepared  for  them  in  half  an  hour. 
Not  to  delay  the  entire  party,  all  started  on  except 
Joe  Whitley,  for  whom  one  horse  was  left,  as  he 
knew  the  road.  The  other  five  moved  ahead, 
Henry  and  Mr.  Murray  riding,  and  Jack,  who  was 
more  thoroughly  rested  than  Henry,  walking  with 
the  other  boys. 

As  soon  as  they  were  gone,  Joe  and  Becky  set 


52  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

themselves  to  catch  the  chicken.  Becky  scattered 
the  feed,  and  called, 

"  Chick,  chick  !  " 

Joe  stood  by  her  side,  and,  when  the  chickens 
gathered,  caught,  after  one  or  two  futile  attempts, 
the  plump  young  rooster  which  she  designated  for 
decapitation,  and  the  two  picked  it  together,  Mrs. 
Murray  was  making  the  corn  pones.  It  was  rather 
a  long  half  hour,  and  the  boys  told  Joe  afterward 
that  they  did  not  believe  that  he  had  been  in  any 
haste  to  get  away,  but  he  affirmed  that  picking 
chickens  was  an  important  part  of  a  soldier's  duty, 
and  by  no  means  the  least  pleasant  if  one  had  good 
company,  George  Washington  overstayed  his  time 
when  first  he  met  Martha  Custis.  If  Joe  tarried  a 
matter  of  fifteen  unnecessary  minutes,  all  told,  his 
own  conscience,  and  not  this  history,  must  accuse 
him. 

It  is  rather  small  business  in  the  historian  at  the 
present  day  to  search  out  and  record  such  trivial 
incidents,  but  they  were  among  those  that  the 
soldiers  were  glad  to  remember  afterward,  and  it  is 
rather  pleasant  to  turn  from  the  more  sombre  sub- 
jects which  must  form  so  great  a  part  of  our  narra- 
tive. Besides,  it  is  important  to  note  even  such 
trifling  occurrences,  for  sometimes  they  had  a  future. 
It  may  be  that  it  would  not  have  made  a  classic 
picture,  but  one  of  the  scenes  which  stands  out 
with  somewhat  unusual  clearness  is  that  of  Joe  and 
Becky  standing  beside  the  smoke  house  that  Sep- 
tember morning,  plucking  the  chicken  together. 
Socrates  plucked  a  cock  for  Plato's  edification  :  this 
reduction  of  a  biped  to  a  featherless  condition  was 


To  Fight  for  the  Flag  53 

quite  as  dignified  a  process,  and,  like  that,  sub- 
served at  least  one  useful  end. 

Joe  overtook  his  companions  two  hours  after 
they  had  gone,  and  they  punished  him,  as  he  de- 
served, by  not  allowing  him  to  ride  again  for  many 
a  mile.  The  mountains  were  now  left  behind,  and 
the  beautiful  blue-grass  region,  with  its  large  fields 
of  ripening  corn,  of  tall  hemp,  and  of  broad-leaved 
tobacco,  its  rolling  plains,  and  its  pastures  with  fine 
cattle  and  horses,  was  about  them.  They  paused 
for  dinner,  and  rode  another  hour,  and  Mr.  Mur- 
ray stopped  to  turn  back,  riding  one  horse  and 
leading  two. 

"  Now  this  is  the  road  to  Richmond,"  he  said, 
"  the  county  seat  o'  Madison.  I  wouldn't  go 
through  thar  jes'  now.  There's  a  good  bit  of  ex- 
citement thar  jes'  at  present.  I  don't  reckon  any- 
body would  pester  you,  but  you  needn't  give  'em 
no  chance.  Keep  west  an'  a  little  north,  an'  you 
don't  need  to  be  skeered  to  ast  the  way." 

They  bade  him  a  hearty  farewell,  and  pressed 
forward  with  good  courage.  They  slept  that  night 
in  a  barn  only  five  miles  from  the  Kentucky  River. 
Before  it  was  light  they  were  up,  and  ate  the 
remains  of  their  food,  and  then  took  their  way  on 
in  the  direction  indicated  to  Camp  Nelson.  It  was 
still  early  in  the  morning  that  they  stood  upon  a 
high  bluff,  with  the  river  far  below,  and  looking  to 
the  other  side  Jack  saw  something  waving  in  the  air. 

"  Boys,  look  there  !  "  he  called. 

They  looked,  and  Eph  cast  his  hat  high  in  the 
air  with  a  glad  shout,  in  which  they  all  joined, 
"  Hurrah  !     Hurrah !     It's  the  flag  !  " 


IV 

Toward  the  Promised  Land 

THE  Kentucky  River  runs  between  high 
bluffs  at  Camp  Nelson,  and  the  conforma- 
tion of  the  land  makes  fortification  easy 
and  effective.  General  Nelson  intended 
that  if  a  battle  was  fought  in  central  Kentucky  it 
should  be  there;  but  the  battle  came  a  year  later  on 
other  ground.  Here,  amid  scenery  of  surpassing 
beauty,  two  thousand  East  Tennesseeans  were  en- 
rolled for  the  deliverance  of  their  own  State.  Jack 
and  Henry  entered  Company  A  of  the  First  Ten- 
nessee Infantry.  Their  captain,  for  a  short  time, 
was  Joseph  A.  Cooper,  a  brave  East  Tennessee 
farmer,  who  was  soon  made  a  colonel  and  then  a 
general.  Their  colonel  was  Robert  K.  Byrd,  who 
had  been  prominent  in  the  Greenville  Convention; 
and  the  commander  of  the  East  Tennessee  bri- 
gade was  Colonel  Samuel  Powhatan  Carter,  of 
Carter  County. 

The  six  Kentucky  regiments  which  gathered  at 
Camp  Dick  Robinson  were  all  officered  by  Ken- 
tucky men.  After  a  brief  service  in  another  regi- 
ment, the  Whitley  boys  were  transferred  to  the 
Eighth  Kentucky  Infantry,  where  they  served  under 
Captain  John  Wilson.  His  company,  recruited 
mainly  in  Estill  County,  carried  the  flag  —  the  flag 
of  which  Becky  Murray  had  told  them,  and  which 

54 


Toward  the  Promised  Land  55 

she  had  a  share  in  making.  Bill  Whitley  was  chosen 
color-sergeant,  and  was  jealously  proud  of  his  posi- 
tion until  he  saw  the  hungry  look  in  the  eyes  of  his 
brother  Joe. 

"Joe,  whatcher  lookin'  that  flag  over  fur,  so?" 
he  asked,  as  he  entered  the  tent,  and  found  Joe 
inspecting  the  stitches. 

"  Nothin',"  said  Joe,  sheepishly,  rolling  up  the 
flag. 

"  That's  a  lie,"  said  Bill.  "  You  was  a-lookin'  to 
see  ef  ye  could  tell  what  she  sewed." 

"  I  wasn't  nuther,"  declared  Joe,  coloring. 

"You  was,  too.  An'  you're  wantin'  to  pack  that 
flag  yourself  Cyain't  ye  be  satisfied  with  havin'  the 
gal,  an'  let  other  folks  have  some  sheer?  " 

"  I  hain't  a-keerin'  to  pack  the  flag.  Bill,      I  —  " 

"  I  know  better,"  said  Bill,  bolting  out  of  the 
tent.  For  several  days  the  boys  were  near  to  quar- 
relling at  every  mention  of  the  flag.  Bill  was  ever 
the  aggressor,  taunting  Joe  with  coveting  his  posi- 
tion, and  drawing  from  him  emphatic  denials  that 
were  almost  admissions.  One  evening  Bill  entered 
the  tent,  and  found  Joe  alone. 

"  Lookyhere,  Joe,"  he  said.  "  This  thing  hain't 
a-goin'  on  no  longer.  You  git  up  here  an'  take  off 
yer  coat,  an'  the  best  man  gits  the  flag  an'  gal,  too." 

Joe  started  to  his  feet  in  surprise. 

"  Bill  —  Bill,"  he  stammered,  "  do  you  keer  for 
Becky  ?  " 

"  Take  off  yer  coat !  "  shouted  Bill. 

Joe  wonderingly  began  fingering  at  the  buttons. 
"  I'll  take  off*  my  coat,  ef  ye  say  so ;  but  I  won't 
fight  ye.     Bill  —  I  didn't  know  —  " 


56  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Now  put  on  that  one,"  said  Bill,  extending  his 
own.  "  I've  ben  to  see  Captain  Wilson,  an'  you're 
to  be  color-sergeant  stidder  me." 

"  I  won't  do  it.  Bill,"  cried  Joe,  with  tears  starting 
from  his  eyes. 

"  You  have  obleeged  to  do  it,"  said  Bill.  "  An' 
I  don't  want  none  o'  yer  fool  talk  about  it.  You 
keer  for  the  gal,  an'  I  don't  —  much;  an'  you'll 
keer  more  for  the  flag  than  me  for  her  sake.  So 
we'll  swap  coats  to  save  rippin'  off  an'  sewin'  on 
braid.  Shet  up !  Ef  ye  don't  keep  still,  I'll 
lick  ye." 

Thus  far  in  the  war  Kentucky  had  preserved  "  an 
armed  neutrality."  The  country  at  large  ridiculed 
the  idea,  but  President  Lincoln  was  disposed  to 
humor  it.  He  knew  that  vain  as  was  her  attempt 
to  be  neutral,  Kentucky  could  be  trusted,  and  that 
it  was  better  for  the  national  government  not  to  in- 
vade the  State  till  the  South  had  done  so.  Thus, 
when  Governor  McGoffin  complained  of  the  organi- 
zation of  troops  at  Nelson  and  Dick  Robinson  as 
an  invasion.  President  Lincoln  replied  that  these 
were  Kentucky  soldiers,  officered  by  Kentuckians, 
who,  with  the  refugees  from  East  Tennessee,  were 
organized  to  prevent  invasion.  So,  without  send- 
ing a  soldier  from  the  North,  Kentucky  was  held  by 
armed  Union  men  until  the  South  had  invaded  the 
State,  when  the  Legislature,  backed  by  a  Union 
sentiment  that  had  grown  under  Lincoln's  tolerant 
treatment,  declared  for  the  Union,  and  passed  its 
acts  over  the  Governor's  veto. 

One  day,  early  in  October,  the  force  at  Camp 
Dick  Robinson  was  augmented  by  the  arrival  of  the 


Toward  the  Promised   Land  57 

East  Tennessee  brigade  from  Camp  Nelson.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  a  forward  movement  toward  East 
Tennessee.  There  the  Whitley  boys  were  joined 
by  Jack  and  Henry,  and  enjoyed  their  first  visit 
since  enlistment,  nearly  a  month  before. 

"  Well,  Jack,  how  do  you  like  sojerin'  ?  "  asked 
Eph. 

"  I'll  like  it  when  we  git  to  doin'  somethin'.  How 
do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  don'  like  the  drillin'  wuth  a  continental. 
This  ^Left!  Left!'  and  '  Hayfoot !  Strawfoot!' 
don'  suit  me  a  mite." 

"  Nor  me.  But  I'm  willin'  ef  we  ever  git  any- 
whar." 

"  I  hope  we'll  move  now.  Did  you  hear  that 
General  Nelson's  been  removed  ?  " 

"  No  ;  what's  he  removed  for  ?  " 

"  Well,  he's  got  a  mighty  quick  temper,  an'  he's 
arrested  rebs  about  as  brash  as  ZollicofFer  did  the 
Union  men.  A  heap  o'  the  sojers  was  mad  at  him, 
too.     Did  you  hear  about  his  fight  with  a  teamster  ^  " 

"  No  ;  what  was  it  ?  " 

"Nelson  had  a  sojer  actin'  as  his  clerk,  an'  he 
was  a  good  writer,  but  tipped  his  elbow  tol'able 
often.  An'  he  knowed  a  teamster  that  kep'  a  jug 
under  his  wagon  seat.  T'other  day  the  teamster 
was  mighty  nigh  full,  an'  was  tryin'  to  hitch  up  his 
mules,  an'  this  clerk  seen  him,  an'  says,  says  he, 
'  Wy  don'  you  git  the  horsier  over  thar  to  hitch 
up  ? '  *  I  didn't  know  as  they  war  no  horsier,'  says 
the  teamster.  '  Yes,'  says  the  clerk,  '  a  big  feller 
over  thar  in  yon  tent.'  '  Does  he  hitch  up  for 
teamsters  ? '  asts  the  teamster.     '  Yes,'  says  the  fel- 


58  A  Hero  In  Homespun 

ler,  '  that's  what  he's  paid  to  do,  but  he's  lazy.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  ef  he's  asleep,  stidder  doin'  wut 
he's  paid  to  do,  an'  lettin'  hard-workin'  teamsters 
do  the  work.'  '  I'll  raise  him,'  says  the  teamster. 
'  You  best  look  out,'  says  the  feller.  '  He's  a  big 
feller,  a  main  big  one,'  says  he,  *  an'  he's  cross  as 
old  Scratch.'  The  teamster  was  about  as  big  as 
Nelson,  an'  he  starts  off  to  wake  him,  an'  the  clerk 
he  gits  inter  the  wagon  an'  gits  the  jug.  Then  the 
big  teamster  he  comes  to  Nelson's  tent  an'  breaks 
right  in,  and  Nelson  was  sleepin'  sure  enough.  An' 
the  feller  says,  '  Git  up  here,  ye  lazy  lout,'  says  he, 
'an'  hitch  up  my  mules  ! '  General  Nelson,  he  jumps 
up  an'  draws  his  sword  an'  makes  a  lunge  for  the 
feller,  madder'n  a  she  bar  that's  lost  her  cubs ;  an' 
the  teamster  he  hauls  back  with  his  whip,  and  they 
went  in  for  each  other  like  two  painters.  But  some 
officers  hears  the  racket  and  knows  they's  some  one 
goin'  to  git  killed,  an'  in  they  comes  runnin'  and 
separates  them.  Then  they  went  to  find  the  feller 
that  kicked  up  the  dirt,  an'  found  him  drunk  in  the 
wagon,  an'  the  jug  empty." 

"  I  reckon  he  ketched  it  from  Nelson." 

"You're  mighty  right.  Nelson  sent  him  home 
acrost  lots." 

"  Was  that  what  Nelson  left  for  .?  " 

"No;  but  they's  ben  a  heap  o'  trouble,  an'  he 
cyan't  git  on  rightly  with  no  one." 

"  Who's  comin'  atter  him  ?  " 

"  Gin'ral  Thomas." 

"  Do  you  reckon  he'll  be  as  keen  to  invade  East 
Tennessy  as  Nelson?" 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  so.     He's   a  Southern  man,  and 


Toward  the  Promised  Land  59 

knows  about  it.  I  don'  know  about  Sherman, 
though.     He's  over  Thomas." 

"  Well,  they  dassent  give  up  East  Tennessy. 
We've  enlisted  for  that.  Our  officers  are  commis- 
sioned '  For  the  East  Tennessee  Expedition.'  " 

"  They  say  ZollicofFer's  got  to  Barboursville." 

"  Did  you  hear  that  they  had  a  Httle  scrimmage 
there  yistiddy  ? " 

"  No  ;  how  was  it  ?  " 

"Some  Home  Guards  thar  met  his  army,  and  they 
was  a  fight,  but  the  Home  Guards  didn't  make  out 
much.  They're  sendin'  word  for  us  to  come  right 
off  and  help  'em  lick  Zolly." 

"  They're  goin'  to  do  it,  hain't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Cun'l  Garrard's  gone  ahead  a' ready,  an' 
he  cal'lates  to  stop  ZoUicoffer  till  the  rest  on  us 
git  thar." 

"  What  for  guns  is  your'n  ?  " 

"  Same  as  your'n.  They  call  'em  Belgian  rifles. 
They  say  that  the  Gov'nor  of  Pennsylvania  refused 
'em,  an'  they  sent  'em  on  to  Ohio,  an'  the  Gov'nor 
of  Ohio  said  he  wouldn't  take  no  sech  guns  for 
Ohio  sojers,  an'  they  sent  'em  down  here." 

"I  reckon  we're  as  good  as  them  fellers." 

"  Yes,  but  our  fellers  is  mighty  glad  to  git  any- 
thing that'll  shoot." 

"  1  heerd  that  some  of  the  men  had  got  guns 
they  was  afeard  to  shoot  off." 

"  Well,  hit's  so,  mighty  nigh.  The  breech  is  the 
dangerous  eend.  I  seed  two  or  three  fellers  kicked 
over  with  'em;" 

The  drums  here  began  to  beat.  The  young  men 
did  not  know  the  different  signals,  but  went  to  their 


6o  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

respective  regiments,  where  they  were  ordered  to 
prepare  for  an  advance  against  Zollicofifer. 

It  was  a  glad  morning  to  Jack  and  Henry,  when, 
turning  their  backs  upon  the  blue  grass,  they  marched 
toward  the  mountains  again. 

"  Hurrah,  Hank  !  ain't  this  fine?  " 

"  You'd  better  believe  it !  Won't  we  drive  ole 
ZollicofFer  back,  though?" 

"  Well,  now,  I  reckon  we  will !  Two  thousand 
of  us,  all  from  East  Tennessy,  and  six  Kaintuck 
reg'maints  !  We'll  drive  him  back  through  the  Gap 
a  heap  quicker'n  he  come  !  " 

"  An'  he  won't  have  long  to  stop  in  East  Ten- 
nessy, nuther," 

"  Not  much,  he  won't.  We'll  send  him  out  of  the 
mountains  a-flyin'.  We'll  go  to  Knoxville  an'  smash 
open  the  jail,  an'  we'll  stop  in  front  of  old  Parson 
Brownlow's  house  and  cheer,  and  the  old  man'U 
come  out  an'  make  us  a  speech,  an'  call  us  the 
deliverers  of  East  Tennessy  !  " 

"  Which  way  do  you  reckon  we'll  go  from  the 
Gap  ?  " 

"  The  way  we  come,  like  as  not,  an'  down  the  Hol- 
ston  valley.  Jes'  think  o'  marchin'  down  the  road 
past  home,  with  the  fellers  a-comin'  out  o'  the  woods 
whar  they  ben  a-hidin'  out,  an'  the  gals  a-wavin' 
their  sunbonnets  and  their  handkerchers  !  " 

Conversations  like  this  were  repeated  among 
groups  of  friends  all  through  the  Tennessee  bri- 
gade. They  were  men  who  had  braved  dangers  to 
join  the  army.  They  had  enlisted  without  draft  or 
bounty,  and  for  conscience'  sake.  They  had  re- 
sisted bribes,  threats,  and  offers  of  protection,  and 


Toward  the  Promised  Land  6i 

had  left  homes  and  friends  unprotected,  with  the  fond 
hope  of  returning  soon  to  fight  for  their  own  hearth- 
stones. Never  did  a  band  of  men  march  forth  with 
better  heart  than  that  raw-boned  but  stalwart  com- 
pany of  East  Tennesseeans,  as  they  shouldered  their 
clumsy  old  Belgian  rifles  and  trudged  toward 
home. 

The  pike  extends  as  far  as  Crab  Orchard,  and  then 
there  is  a  "  dirt  road  "  of  uncertain  quality.  From 
there  the  way  leads  across  the  hills  of  Rockcastle 
County  to  the  Rockcastle  River.  There  is  a  pre- 
cipitous descent  to  the  ford  at  Livingston,  and  then 
comes  the  long  ascent  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain. 

It  was  fortunate  that  Carter's  brigade  had  small 
need  of  baggage  wagons,  for  what  wagons  there 
were,  and  these  were  hired,  had  a  hard  time  of  it. 
No  man  who  has  not  experienced  them  can  fitly  pict- 
ure to  himself  the  manifold  adventures  of  a  ride 
in  a  wagon  through  the  Rockcastle  River  and  up 
Wild  Cat. 

The  ordinary  army  wagon  on  this  expedition  had 
four  mules  and  a  negro  driver,  who  sat  on  one  mule 
and  guided  the  whole  four  with  a  single  rein.  As 
he  had  one  rein,  so  he  had  but  one  word  of  com- 
mand ;  but  it  was  marvellously  flexible  and  effective. 
When  he  wished  to  go  to  the  right  he  would  say, 
"  Yea-a-a-a  !  "  and  manipulate  the  rein.  When  he 
wished  to  go  to  the  left,  he  would  say  the  same 
word  and  appear  to  use  the  rein  in  precisely  the 
same  way.  When  going  down  the  bank  into  the 
stream,  and  he  wished  the  mules  to  proceed  with 
caution,  he  would  say,  in  an  admonitory  tone, 
"  Yea-a-a-a,  now !  "     When  he  wished  to  urge  them 


62  A   Hero  in   Hornespun 

up  the  bank  on  the  other  side,  he  would  jerk  the 
rein  and  call  sharply,  "  Yea  !  Yea  !  Yea  !  " 

It  would  not  be  fitting  to  speak  of  the  swearing, 
but  the  army  in  Flanders  never  could  have  sworn 
as  did  the  drivers  of  those  mule  teams.  They 
swore  at  the  mules,  and  at  the  roads,  and  at  the  loads, 
and  at  the  broken  harnesses,  and  at  the  collar  galls,  and 
at  the  officer,  far  back  in  authority,  who  was  supposed 
to  be  responsible  for  this  unreasonable  exertion,  and 
last,  but  not  least,  at  Jeff  Davis  and  the  Southern 
Confederacy.  It  is  two  and  one-half  miles  to  the 
top,  and  the  profanity  grew  denser  as  the  climb 
grew  more  steep.  Persons  who  stand  to-day  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  see  toward  the  sum- 
mit of  Wild  Cat  a  streak  of  blue  haze,  which  is 
sometimes  visible  there,  are  told  that  it  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  profanity  of  teamsters,  during 
and  since  the  war,  who  "  swore  a  blue  streak." 

But  the  Tennesseeans  did  not  swear,  or,  if  they 
did,  it  was  not  for  disapproval  of  the  expedition. 
The  fording  of  the  Rockcastle,  the  climbing  of 
Wild  Cat,  were  to  them  but  the  passing  through 
the  Red  Sea  and  the  beginning  of  a  short  wilderness 
wandering,  before  their  entrance  into  their  own  land 
of  promise,  poor  and  barren,  but  full  of  all  the 
meaning  which  speaks  to  the  heart  in  the  tender 
name  of  home.  There  were  their  firesides  and  their 
altars.  There  were  their  wives  and  children.  There, 
in  not  a  few  cases,  were  their  imprisoned  relatives. 
There  were  their  own  plundered  fields  and  barns, 
defenceless  before  the  destroyer.  A  few  weeks  ago 
it  had  been  imprisonment  to  cheer  the  flag.  Now, 
they  carried  it  aloft  with  shouts  of  joy,  and  pictured 


Toward  the  Promised   Land  63 

to  themselves  the  scene  that  would  appear  when 
they  marched,  each  man  into  his  native  town  or 
past  his  own  door,  with  the  flag  waving  above  him. 
They  were  not  much  given  to  gay  music.  They 
mostly  sang  the  weird,  minor  tunes  that  belonged 
to  their  worship,  with  a  few  wild,  odd,  but  equally 
solemn  songs  that  might  be  sung  on  secular  occa- 
sions. But  there  was  one  song  that  was  popular  in 
the  army,  and  which,  both  for  its  tune  and  its  senti- 
ment, they  enjoyed.  They  had  learned  it  from  the 
rebels,  but  it  suited  them  equally  well.  The  tune 
is  martial,  and  is  said  to  date  back  to  the  time  of 
the  Crusades.  It  is  minor  also,  and  has  a  touch  of 
solemnity  in  it.  They  hummed  it  as  Cromwell's 
Ironsides  hummed  their  surly  hymn,  that  had  in 
it  the  conquest  of  all  the  enemies  of  the  Lord. 
They  hummed  it  as  they  marched,  and  the  legs  that 
had  resisted  all  attempts  of  the  drill  sergeant  in  the 
few  days  during  which  they  had  had  his  painful  in- 
struction, now  began  to  swing  in  something  like 
rhythm.  And  there  were  times  when  the  air  broke 
out  in  one  squad  and  was  caught  up  in  antiphone 
by  another,  and  echoed  up  the  hill  and  down,  on 
this  side  of  the  river  and  the  other. 

'*  When  Johnny  comes  marching  home  again.  Hurrah!   Hurrah! 
We'll  give  him  a  hearty  welcome  then.  Hurrah!   Hurrah! 
The  girls  will  sing,  the  boys  will  shout : 
The  ladies  they  will  all  turn  out  : 
And  we'll  all  feel  gay 
When  Johnny  comes  marching  home!  " 

Whether   there    were    more    stanzas    or    not,    or 
other  songs  like  it,  few  of  the  men  knew,  and  none 


64  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

of  them  cared.  To  some,  the  subHme  thing  about 
the  war  was  the  onward  march  of  a  mighty  provi- 
dential purpose;  and  for  them  there  came  the  " Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic."  To  others  the  impressive 
thing  was  the  leap  of  the  nation's  blood  and  the 
answering  rush  of  the  thousands  ;  and  these  might 
sing,  "  We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  three 
hundred  thousand  more."  These  were  features  not 
wholly  lost  upon  the  mountaineer.  But  the  prime 
thing  in  his  thought  at  this  stage  of  the  contest  was 
his  own  return  to  defend  his  shrines  and  loved  ones, 
and  the  song  that  suited  him,  both  as  to  its  words 
and  its  music,  was  "When  Johnny  comes  marching 
home  !"     Alas  !  what  a  march  it  was  ! 


The  Battle  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain 

MOLLIE  CAMERON  had  a  hard  time 
of  it  after  Joe  died,  but  it  couldn't  be 
helped,  as  she  said  a  hundred  times  to 
her  comforters,  and  so  that  was  the  end 
of  it.  She  seemed  to  the  neighbors  to  have  grown 
hard  and  cold,  and  some  doubted  if  she  really 
mourned  for  Joe,  she  "took  it"  so  strangely.  She 
was  not  seen  to  weep.  She  did  not  hide  her  face, 
but  looked  straight  before  her  out  of  tearless  eyes, 
with  a  countenance  that  was  white  and  set.  It  was 
when  they  woke  little  Jim  to  see  his  father  die  that 
she  seemed  to  change.  She  had  watched  Joe's 
breath  growing  shorter  and  shorter  in  the  hours 
that  he  lay  unconscious,  and  had  given  no  sign 
that  the  neighbors  recognized  as  that  of  grief  She 
had  heard  them  say  that  he  was  dying,  and  had 
shed  no  tear.  But  when  they  held  little  Jim,  whom 
she  seemed  until  that  moment  to  have  forgotten, 
up  beside  the  pillow  to  look  into  the  face  of  his 
dying  father,  she  gave  a  look  that  was  first  wild  and 
then  full  of  a  grief  that  was  awful  to  see.  It  was 
only  for  a  moment.  There  was  a  short  death-rattle 
in  Joe's  throat,  a  brief  convulsive  shudder,  and  the 
breathing  ceased.  One  of  the  neighbors  rose  and 
stopped  the  little  wooden  clock  upon  the  mantel, 
and  turned  to  the  wall  the  room's  one  picture,  and 

F  65 


66  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

they  all  knew  that  the  end  had  come.  Then  Mollie 
clutched  little  Jim  to  her  breast  and  wailed  in  pas- 
sionate sorrow.  Little  Jim  had  stared  about  him 
bewildered,  but  now  took  fright,  and  added  his  cries 
to  his  mother's ;  and  the  neighbor  women  at  first 
wept  beside  her,  but  soon  dried  their  tears  that 
they,  if  possible,   might  comfort  her. 

The  tempest  of  MoUie's  weeping  soon  spent 
itself;  but  when  she  ceased  to  weep,  the  hard  look 
that  was  like  a  flint  came  back,  and  they  wished 
that  she  would  weep  again.  But  she  did  not,  or 
if  she  did,  they  did  not  know  it.  They  "  sat  up 
with  Joe,"  as  in  duty  bound,  she  neither  objecting 
nor  expressing  gratitude.  They  prepared  his  body 
for  the  burial,  and  she  watched  the  preparations 
unmoved.  They  laid  him  away  under  the  pine 
tree  in  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  —  for  she  refused 
to  have  his  body  taken  to  the  cemetery,  —  and  she 
witnessed  his  burial  without  tears.  The  funeral, 
which  they  held  in  the  sumnner  following,  found 
her  present,  with  sunbonnet  of  black  drawn  over 
her  face  ;  but  the  face,  when  they  saw  it,  was  the 
same  face  of  flint,  and  she  led  little  Jim  away  and 
up  the  road  from  Hazel  Patch  church  house  to  her 
home  on  the  southeast  slope  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain, 
and  took  up  her  lonely  Hfe,  with  little  Jim  and  her 
sorrow  for  her  only  companions. 

Yet  the  neighbors,  who  told  of  her  conduct  with 
awe,  added  strange  and  inconsistent  rumors.  It 
was  reported  that  no  day  went  by  which  did  not 
see  some  token  of  affection  laid  upon  the  grave 
of  Joe,  and  that  at  least  once  she  had  gotten  little 
Jim  to  sleep  at  night,  rocking  him  back  and  forth 


The  Battle  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain  67 

in  a  hard  chair  that  had  no  rockers,  and  then,  laying 
him  on  the  bed,  had  gone  out  into  the  storm  and 
spent  the  night  upon  Joe's  grave. 

Tkere  was  no  reasoning  with  her ;  and  when  she 
declared  that  she  would  live  there  just  the  same, 
and  tend  the  little  farm  the  best  she  could,  the 
neighbors  knew  better  than  to  try  to  dissuade  her, 
and  did  their  best  to  help  her  along.  Several  times 
she  found  a  dressed  chicken  or  a  sack  of  meal  at 
her  door,  and  it  was  understood  that  before  the  end 
of  October  the  neighbors  would  gather  in  and  husk 
her  corn.  But  it  was  in  October  that  the  fight 
came,  and  that  changed  many  plans  about  Wild  Cat. 

Back  from  the  road,  and  little  concerned  with  the 
world  outside,  MoUie  knew  not  of  the  approach 
of  the  two  armies  ;  of  Zollicoffer  on  the  east,  and 
Garrard  with  his  Kentuckians,  and  Carter  with  his 
Tennesseeans  on  the  west.  On  the  day  that  the 
battle  came  —  which  was  the  twenty-first,  as  they 
remembered  so  well  afterward  —  she  had  gotten  Jim 
to  sleep,  and  had  gone  far  down  the  branch  to  a 
neighbor's  to  see  if  they  would  market  for  her  her 
little  surplus  of  beans.  She  chose  the  time  when 
Jim  was  asleep,  because  she  had  the  beans  to  "  pack," 
and  the  way  was  rough  and  hard  for  little  Jim,  who 
himself  needed  to  be  "packed"  at  intervals.  She 
had  rarely  left  him,  and,  as  she  went,  she  hurried 
with  the  sack  upon  her  back.  Just  as  she  neared 
the  neighbor's  house,  she  was  stopped  by  a  soldier 
in  gray,  who  ordered  her  to  return  ;  and,  looking 
past  him,  she  saw  that  the  road  was  full  of  soldiers 
moving  up  the  hill.  She  hurried  back,  but  soon 
was    stopped    by    other    soldiers.       The    mountain 


68  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

seemed  alive  with  them,  and  up  at  the  top  she 
heard  the  sound  of  guns.  She  turned  this  way  and 
that  to  reach  her  home.  The  battle  came  nearer 
and  nearer  to  her,  and  she  was  driven  farther  away 
with  each  shifting  of  the  position  of  the  soldiers. 
At  length  she  lost  her  way  and  wandered  afar, 
being  guided  back  by  the  sound  of  the  firing,  which 
was  resumed  with  greater  fierceness  later  in  the  day. 
As  she  approached  her  home  toward  evening,  her 
way  was  still  blocked,  but  now  by  soldiers  in  blue 
instead  of  gray,  and  they  were  hurrying  through  the 
woods  and  down  the  ridges  and  defiles  upon  the 
eastern  side  of  the  mountain,  in  hot  pursuit  of 
the  Confederates,  who  were  retreating  to   London. 

It  was  a  small  battle,  as  measured  by  comparison 
with  those  that  followed,  but  there  were  thirty  Con- 
federate dead,  and  five  that  wore  the  blue,  with 
wounded  enough  to  keep  the  surgeons  on  both 
sides  busy,  and  men  were  not  as  yet  accustomed  to 
the  shedding  of  each  other's  blood.  Besides,  it  is 
impossible  during,  and  immediately  after,  a  battle, 
to  keep  the  reports  of  losses  within  bounds,  and 
with  what  the  soldiers  saw  of  carnage,  —  which  God 
knows  was  enough,  —  and  what  they  believed  of  ex- 
aggerated reports,  it  seemed  to  them  a  great  battle, 
—  the  first  battle  in  Kentucky,  and  Zollicoffer  was 
defeated ! 

A  Tennessee  company,  moving  through  the 
woods  early  in  the  day  in  pursuit  of  a  straggling 
band  of  Confederates  who  retreated  before  their 
greater  numbers,  came  upon  a  burning  cabin,  which 
the  rebels  appeared  to  have  fired  before  their  with- 
drawal.    They  had  not  held  it  long,  as  was  evident 


The   Battle  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain  69 

from  the  untrampled  yard,  and  the  little  field  still 
bearing  its  wealth  of  golden  corn.  Apparently  a 
squad  had  fallen  upon  the  cabin,  perhaps  had  plun- 
dered it  of  its  eatables,  and,  compelled  to  vacate 
almost  immediately,  had  set  it  on  fire.  The  Ten- 
nesseeans  entered  the  clearing,  and  stopped  to  look 
at  the  blazing  building  and  to  take  breath  before 
pushing  ahead.  A  little  group  gathered  under  a 
great  pine  with  a  mound  below  it. 

"  Somebody  buried  here,  I  reckon,  Jack  ?  " 

"Yes.  Somebody  keered  a  heap  for  him,  who- 
ever he  was.  Look  at  them  bright  leaves,  all  tied 
in  a  wreath.  Somebody's  put  them  here,  and 
hunted  for  all   the  bright  an'   purty  ones." 

"  Some  woman's  done  that.  Reckon  hit  must  a 
ben  her  man  that's  dead.  'Tain't  ben  long.  The 
grave  hain't  ben  thar  many  months.  Say,  Jack, 
what  was  that  ?  " 

"  What  was  what  ?  " 

"  Listen  !     Hit  sounds  lack  a  baby  a-cryin'/' 

"  It's  in  the  house,  as  I'm  a  hvin'  man  !  "  cried 
Jack. 

A  score  of  faces  turned  pale,  that  had  looked  that 
day  on  bloodshed  without  flinching.  To  see  men 
killed  was  terrible,  but  this  was  unendurable. 
There  was  a  child  in  the  burning  house,  and  there 
was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 

"Who'll  volunteer  to  go  in  an'  get  that  baby?" 
cried  Captain  Cooper. 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  response.  Then 
Jack  Casey  cried,  "  I'll  go  !  " 

"  Ef  you  go,  I'll  go  with  ye,"  answered  Henry. 

They  moved  around  the  house  to  find  the  best 


•JO  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

way  of  approach.  There  were  but  two  doors,  and 
the  flames  were  bursting  out  of  one.  The  door  on 
the  other  side  was  closed.  The  child's  cry  ceased 
as  they  passed  around,  whether  because  they  could 
not  hear  him  through  the  closed  door,  or  because 
the  flames  had  caught  him,  they  could  not  be  sure. 
Together  the  two  men  rushed  forward,  with  half  a 
score  hard  behind  them,  and  burst  in  the  door. 

"  Git  down,  Hank,  an'  crawl.  The  smoke  hain't 
so  bad." 

But  in  the  moment  that  the  door  was  burst  in, 
the  wind,  rushing  through,  for  an  instant  almost 
cleared  the  room  of  smoke,  but  in  another  filled  it 
with  flame.  The  one  instant  was  enough.  In  it 
they  both  saw  dimly,  in  the  corner  nearest  them, 
the  bed,  on  which  the  choking  child  had  almost 
ceased  to  cry.  Jack  seized  the  little  one  in  his  arms 
and  rushed  out.  Henry  retreated  to  the  door  and 
looked  back  to  be  sure  whether  the  room  had  other 
inmates,  but  was  at  once  driven  out  by  the  flame. 
The  soldiers  drew  back  to  the  edge  of  the  clearing 
and  laid  the  little  one  on  the  grass.  Then  they 
turned  to  Jack  and  Henry. 

"  Burn  ye.  Hank  ?  " 

"  Nope." 

"  Git  scorched.  Jack  ?  " 

"  Singed  my  har  a  little  mite,  but  nary  burn." 

The  child  was  also  unhurt,  though  gasping  for 
breath.  Asleep  on  the  bed  and  covered  with  Mol- 
lie's  saddle  shawl,  he  had  escaped  the  notice  of  the 
rebels  in  their  hasty  visit,  and  had  awakened  barely 
in  time  to  be  rescued. 

What  to  do  with  the  boy  was  the  next  question. 


The   Rescue  of  Cub.        Page    70. 


J 


The   Battle  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain  71 

He  was  a  lusty  young  fellow  of  three  or  four  years. 
His  father,  they  judged  from  the  grave  near  by,  was 
dead.  The  mother  —  they  had  many  and  unfounded 
conjectures.  Those  were  the  days  of  wild  tales  of 
rebel  atrocities  ;  and  there  were  atrocities  enough  on 
both  sides,  in  all  conscience.  But  in  the  heat  of 
that  day  when  they  first  saw  blood,  in  the  anger 
and  hatred  of  battle,  the  theory  that  commended 
itself  to  them  was  one  that  would  have  been  in- 
stantly rejected  after  a  few  months  of  fighting,  which 
was  that  the  mother  had  been  foully  dealt  with  and 
grossly  murdered,  and  the  body  left  with  the  living 
child  to  perish  in  the  fire  which  they  had  kindled 
to  conceal  their  brutal  deed. 

They  sent  the  boy  to  the  hospital.  Jack  and 
Henry  agreeing  to  see  to  him  when  the  battle  was 
over.  "Jack  an'  Hank's  Cub,"  the  soldiers  lov- 
ingly dubbed  him,  in  affection  for  the  child  and  the 
foster  parents  also  ;  for  it  was  their  fashion  to  dis- 
semble their  love  behind  rude  sobriquets.  Soon 
the  name  proved  burdensome,  and  the  whole  com- 
pany came  to  share,  though  in  lesser  degree,  the 
paternal  relation  to  the  child,  who  thence  became 
simply  "  The  Cub." 

It  was  four  days  before  Jack  and  Henry  saw  their 
protege.  They  were  sent  in  pursuit  of  ZollicofFer 
to  London,  a  dozen  miles  advance  from  the  victory 
at  Wild  Cat.  There  they  halted,  and  ZoUicoffer's 
army  turned  aside  to  Mill  Spring,  yet  held  Cumber- 
land Gap,  though  now  somewhat  insecurely. 

The  troops  were  in  high  spirits.  They  had 
fought  a  battle  and  won  it.  They  had  held  their 
ground  against  two  fierce  attacks,  and  had   driven 


72  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

the  enemy  from  the  field.  They  were  advanced  a 
good  distance  toward  the  Gap,  and  the  wav  was 
clear  to  the  Cumberland.  Before  them  there  was 
a  fight,  no  doubt,  at  Cumberland  Ford,  and  another 
at  the  Gap.  But  how  could  Zollicoffer  now  defend 
the  Gap  with  his  main  force  turned  aside.''  Victory 
was  already  theirs.  Cumberland  Gap  was  theirs ; 
and  when  its  walls,  like  those  of  Jericho,  should 
have  fallen  before  them,  there  would  be  a  clear 
entrance  into  the  land  of  promise.  They  would 
drive  out  the  rebels  as  Joshua  did  the  Canaanites. 
Such  literary  and  historical  precedents  as  they  pos- 
sessed were  from  Scripture,  and  that  was  their  stock 
illustration.  They  would  capture  the  Gap  like 
Jericho.  Knoxville  should  be  to  them  as  Ai,  and 
they  would  hang  its  military  governor.  Wood,  of 
whom  they  had  been  hearing  hard  tales,  as  Joshua 
hanged  the  Canaanite  king,  and  the  righteous  should 
dwell  in  the  land ;  every  man  under  his  own  vine, 
and  every  man  under  his  own  fig  tree,  all  the  days 
of  Andrew  Johnson  and  of  Parson  Brownlow. 

At  this  time  Andrew  Johnson,  on  his  way  north 
to  Congress,  came  to  see  the  soldiers  from  his  own 
State,  and  greatly  encouraged  them  with  the  thought 
of  an  immediate  deliverance  for  East  Tennessee. 
General  Thomas  was  becoming  more  and  more 
anxious  for  such  an  advance.  It  would  come  as 
soon  as  transportation  and  reinforcements  could  be 
brought  up.  Meantime  the  soldiers  possessed  their 
souls  in  patience,  and  whetted  their  spirits  for  the 
victory  that  was  in  sight. 

When  the  baggage  wagons  that  had  been  at  Liv- 
ingstone and  Wild  Cat  came  to  London,  they  brought 


The   Battle  of  Wild  Cat  Mountain         73 

little  Cub.  He  was  eagerly  claimed  by  Jack  and 
Henry,  and  the  whole  company,  of  which  he  was 
made  an  honorary  member.  He  had  cried  at  first, 
the  teamster  said,  for  "  Mammy,"  but  after  the 
second  night  had  ceased  to  mourn,  and,  from  the 
first,  had  taken  kindly  to  the  soldiers.  They  set 
themselves  to  spoil  him  as  rapidly  as  might  be. 
They  had  a  uniform  made  for  him  out  of  blue,  and, 
short  as  were  the  troops  of  uniforms,  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  the  commissary  connived  at  the  theft  of 
a  coat  to  be  devoted  to  this  use.  They  made  him 
a  wooden  sword,  and  a  military  hat  with  a  turkey 
feather,  and  taught  him  to  shout  "  Forward,  march  !" 
and  to  exact  obedience. 

The  whole  company,  from  Captain  Cooper  to  the 
big,  black  teamsters,  loved  the  bright  and  happy 
little  Cub.  The  whole  regiment  began  to  take  an 
interest  in  him,  and  the  other  regiments  to  envy 
them.  Rough,  bearded  men  with  children  at  home 
fondled  him,  and  thought  of  their  own  little  ones. 
Profane  men,  who  began  an  oath,  were  suddenly 
stopped  by  some  companion,  and,  looking  about, 
saw  Cub,  and  blushed.  No  one  thought  him  a 
burden  to  the  company.  They  would  soon  be  at 
home,  anyway. 

Thus  Cub  had  a  merry  time  of  it,  and  the  soldiers 
were  happy  with  him  ;  but,  up  on  the  slope  of  Wild 
Cat  Mountain,  a  woman  wandered,  a  raving  maniac, 
sleeping  at  night  on  a  lone  grave  beneath  a  tall  pine 
tree,  and  asking  men  whom  she  met  in  her  wan- 
derings if  they  had  seen  anything  of  Joe,  or  of  little 
Jim. 


VI 

The   Fighting   Parson 

COLONEL  WOOD,  in  command  of  the 
Confederate  forces  at  Knoxville  after  the 
withdrawal  of  General  ZollicofFer,  paced  up 
and  down  his  room  in  indignation  and  per- 
plexity. Before  him  lay  several  letters  from  his 
officers  in  East  Tennessee,  complaining  of  the  bit- 
terness of  the  Union  spirit,  and  the  difficulty  which 
the  troops  were  having  because  of  it.  Upon  the 
table  also  were  several  recent  issues  of  the  Knoxville 
Whig^  which  he  had  been  intently  reading.  A  citizen 
entered  the  room. 

"  Good  morning,  Colonel  Wood." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Sumner.  I  am  glad  to  see 
you.      Have  a  chair." 

"  I  came  over,  Colonel,  to  have  a  little  talk  with 
you  about  Parson  Brownlow.  The  grand  jury,  which 
is  just  beginning  its  session  at  Nashville,  is  likely  to 
indict  him  for  treason," 

"  He  deserves  it !  "  interrupted  Colonel  Wood. 

"  That  may  be,  and  yet  I  should  be  sorry  to  have 
it  done.  He  is  an  extreme  and  abusive  man,  and 
rarely  does  justice  to  his  opponents,  but  he  is  con- 
scientious, and  his  intentions  are  good." 

"Hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions,"  replied  the 
colonel. 

74 


The  Fighting  Parson  75 

"  So  I  have  heard.  You  used  to  be  a  minister, 
did  you  not,  Colonel  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  still  a  minister  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  am  preaching  the  Gospel  of  peace  and 
of  human  rights  in  my  present  position." 

"  Weil,  you  ministers  might  be  a  little  more  chari- 
table toward  each  other  than  you  and  Brownlow 
seem  to  be.  However,  that  is  not  what  1  came  to 
say.  I  am  sorry  to  have  Brownlow  arrested  for 
treason.  If  he  should  be  convicted  and  hanged, 
hundreds  of  Confederate  sympathizers,  like  myself, 
who  do  not  agree  with  him,  and  who  have  some- 
times differed  with  him  sharply,  and  who  are  most 
ready  of  all  men  to  admit  his  infelicities  of  temper 
and  of  speech,  but  who  respect  his  integrity  and 
intentions,  would  be  most  sorry." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  is  to  be  helped.  He  has 
brought  it  upon  himself." 

"  That  may  be,  but  he  has  done  it  honestly  and 
bravely." 

"  But,  man,  look  at  it  from  the  military  point  of 
view.  Here  we  are,  in  the  midst  of  a  hostile  peo- 
ple. I  need  not  hesitate  to  say  to  you  that  we 
have  been  greatly  disappointed  in  the  conduct  of 
East  Tennessee.  We  knew  their  sentiments  before 
the  war  began.  We  knew  that,  separated  as  they 
are  from  the  more  wealthy  portions  of  the  South, 
their  sympathies  were  more  positively  national  and 
less  sectional.  We  knew  that,  while  few  of  them 
are  rabid  abolitionists,  many  of  them  are  opposed 
to  slavery,  and  few  are  bound  to  defend  it  by  reason 
of  property  considerations,  as  is  true  in  the  re- 
mainder of  the  South.     Still,  we  hoped  that  when 


76  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

the  war  had  once  begun,  State  pride  would  assert 
itself,  and  that  the  spirit  of  kinship  with  the  rest  of 
the  South  would  animate  them,  and  we  should  have 
thousands  of  them  in  the  Confederate  army." 

"  You  did  not  know  them,  Colonel,  that  is 
evident." 

"  I  know  them  now  to  my  sorrow.  They  have 
resisted  all  our  efforts  to  have  them  join  the  South- 
ern army.  A  few  have  come,  and  most  of  these 
half-heartedly  and  over-persuaded." 

"  Over-persuaded  is  a  good  word,  I  think, 
Colonel." 

"  I  admit  that  we  have  used  harsh  measures. 
But  how  could  we  help  it  ?  These  vdlains  have 
not  a  spark  of  honor.  They  take  the  oath  in  pref- 
erence to  going  to  prison,  and  then  either  evade  it, 
or  connive  at  measures  which  violate  its  spirit,  and 
say  that  they  have  taken  it  '  from  the  teeth  out.' 
They  shoot  our  soldiers  from  ambush.  We  have 
lost  scores  of  them,  basely  murdered  in  cold  blood." 

"  The  people  have  had  strong  provocation.  Your 
soldiers  have  done  no  little  looting,  and  have  been 
guilty  of  intimidation  and  other  crimes." 

"  Undoubtedly;  it  is  impossible  to  hold  in  check 
so  great  a  body  of  men  in  the  midst  of  people  who 
continually  insult  and  harass  them.  But  to  return 
to  Brownlow.  In  all  these  months  of  our  occu- 
pancy his  paper  has  been  most  bitter,  and  is  in- 
creasingly so." 

"  Yes,  it  was  more  temperate  when  General  Zol- 
licoffer  was  here  in  person." 

"  General  ZoUicoffer's  action  I  will  not  criticise, 
but  I  am  disposed  to  think  that  his  friendship  for 


The  Fighting  Parson  yy 


Brownlow,  his  previous  connection  with  the  work 
of  a  newspaper  in  this  city,  and  his  own  political 
sentiments  made  him  err  on  the  side  of  charity." 

"  I  reckon  he  had  more  charity  for  printers, 
having  been  one." 

"  And  for  the  old  Whigs,  having  been  one." 

"  More  than  you  for  preachers,  having  been 
one." 

"  The  last  few  weeks  his  editorials  have  been 
past  endurance.     Have  you  read  them  ^  " 

"  Indeed  I  have.  Colonel.      Have  you  ?  " 

"  Read  them  .?  How  could  I  help  it  ?  A  score 
of  copies  are  brought  to  me  by  indignant  officers. 
Marked  copies  come  to  me  by  mail,  one  of  them,  I 
think,  from  the  office  of  the  M^/iig  itself" 

"  What  do  you  think  of  his  call  for  Confederate 
troops  ? " 

"  It  is  insufferable.  For  three  weeks  he  has 
been  calling  on  the  Confederate  sympathizers  to 
make  good  their  boasts  and  join  the  Confederate 
army.  Under  guise  of  this  call  he  has  exposed  the 
weakness  of  our  hold  upon  the  people  of  this 
region.  He  has  referred  again  and  again  to  the 
prospect  of  a  draft.  He  has  ironically  urged  the 
men  of  property  and  position  to  enter  the  army, 
and  thus  has  bred  discontent  among  the  poorer 
people,  from  whom  we  had  so  hoped  for  a  large 
number  of  soldiers.  These  now  are  saying,  in  echo 
of  his  editorial,  that  those  wealthy  Tennesseeans  who 
shout  most  loudly  for  the  Confederacy  are  most 
slow  in  offering  themselves." 

"  There  is  rather  too  much  truth  in  it  to  be  com- 
fortable," said   Mr.  Sumner,  with  a  rather  uncom- 


yS  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

fortable  laugh.  "  I  want  the  South  to  succeed,  but 
I  confess  that  I  am  a  httle  slow  about  enlisting, 
with  the  Union  forces  moving,  as  they  are  said  to 
be,  toward  Cumberland  Gap,  and  with  thousands 
of  our  own  people,  who  have  gone  into  Kentucky 
to  enlist,  eager  to  come  back  and  visit  upon  the 
heads  of  all  who  have  been  concerned  in  the  rebel- 
lion the  evils  which  they  have  suffered.  Besides 
all  that,  there  is  the  danger  of  confiscation  and 
financial  ruin.  You  cannot  wonder  that  men  of 
means  here  in  Knoxville  are  slow  to  offer  them- 
selves for  military  service." 

"  We  will  not  discuss  that,  Mr.  Sumner.  Per- 
sonally, I  believe  that  men  who  believe  in  the 
justice  of  our  cause  should  pledge  as  our  fathers 
did  for  their  independence,  their  lives,  their  fort- 
unes, and  their  sacred  honor.  But  to  have  this 
flung  in  our  faces  by  Brownlow,  and  then  flung  up 
again  by  the  men  whom  we  have  all  but  persuaded 
to  enlist,  is  not  pleasant." 

"  I  can  believe  it.    It  is  hardly  less  pleasant  for  us." 

"  That  man  deserves  to  be  hung.  He  has  kept 
ten  thousand  men  out  of  the  army.  He  has  given 
aid  and  comfort  to  our  enemies.  He  has  scattered 
broadcast  treasonable  information.  He  has  rejoiced 
over  our  misfortunes.  He  has  stimulated  the  hos- 
tility of  East  Tennesseeans  until  we  are  on  the 
crater  of  a  volcano.  If  the  Yankees  should  succeed 
in  taking  Cumberland  Gap,  I  am  not  sure  but  they 
would  rise  and  hang  us  all.  And  every  week  makes 
the  situation  worse." 

"Colonel,  do  you  think  it  possible  that  they  can 
capture  the  Gap  ?  " 


The  Fighting  Parson  79 

"We  could  hold  the  Gap  against  any  force  if  it 
were  well  provisioned  and  supported.  But  if  Gen- 
eral ZoUicoffer  should  be  defeated,  what  with  the 
knowledge  our  soldiers  have  of  the  hostility  in  their 
rear,  they  would  give  up  the  Gap  without  a  struggle." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  Colonel ;  and  if  so, 
can  you  wonder  that  business  men  of  Knoxville, 
whose  sympathies  are  with  the  South,  should  hesi- 
tate to  take  a  pronounced  stand  in  favor  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  wonder,  but  I  do  not  like  it.  How- 
ever, there  is  one  thing  certain  :  Brownlow  must 
be  suppressed." 

"  That  seems  likely  to  be  done.  But  can  we  do 
nothing  to  save  him  from  arrest  ^ " 

"  I  am  not  anxious  to  save  him.  Yet,  I  would 
do  so  if  I  could  honorably.  He  might  take  the 
oath,  or  a  parole  to  be  silent,  and  we  could  save  the 
indictment." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  no  use  to  suggest  that.  But  I 
intend  to  go  to  him.     Will  you  come  with  me  ? " 

"  I  have  been  on  the  point  of  calling  on  him,  but 
I  dread  his  abuse.  I  will  go  with  you,  if  you  wish. 
Perhaps  he  will  be  more  courteous." 

"  Very  well  ;  let  us  go  over." 

The  office  of  the  Knoxville  fFhig,  then  one  of  the 
most  famous  of  American  journals,  and  the  only 
Union  paper  published  within  the  Confederacy, 
stood  back  from  Gay  Street,  and  was  reached  by 
a  narrow  alley.  It  was  a  plain,  one-story  building, 
with  press  room  in  the  basement.  The  editorial 
and  business  office  and  the  compositors  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  and  above  the  office  was  an  attic  in 
which   the   editor   had    a   few   books,  among  them 


8o  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

Helper's  "  Impending  Crisis,"  for  loaning  which 
one  of  Brownlow's  sons  was  arrested. 

Down  the  alley  that  led  past  a  business  house 
built  in  front,  Colonel  Wood  and  Mr.  Sumner 
picked  their  way  to  the  sanctum  of  the  Whig. 

Parson  Brownlow  was  reading  the  proof  of  an 
editorial  when  they  entered  his  office.  His  dark 
face  looked  darker  as  they  saw  it  in  the  shadow, 
and  his  heavy  jaw  had  a  determined  look  about  its 
hard  lines,  which  was  not  encouraging.  He  sat  with 
his  back  to  the  window  and  looked  squarely  into 
their  faces,  and  they  looked  toward  him  and  the 
light  as  they  talked. 

"  Mr.  Brownlow,"  said  Mr.  Sumner,  "  Colonel 
Wood  and  I  have  called  to  consult  you  about 
your  editorials  in  the  Whig.  Some  of  them  seem 
to  us  a  direct  incitement  to  insurrection.  You  have 
even  counselled  the  destruction  of  property  and 
almost  the  destruction  of  life." 

"  I  have  said  that  the  railroad  that  bears  our 
loyal  citizens  south  to  die  in  rebel  prisons  ought 
to  be  eternally  destroyed,  and  the  men  guiltv  of 
this  outrage  should  pav  the  forfeit  with  their  lives, 
and  have  offered  to  print  in  a  roll  of  honor  the 
names  of  men  who  would  do  it,"  said  Brownlow. 

"  You  will  readily  understand,  Mr.  Brownlow," 
continued  Mr.  Sumner,  "  that  men  having  business 
interests  in  Knoxville  and  in  sympathy  with  the 
South  —  " 

"  While  careful  to  keep  a  whole  skin  themselves," 
interrupted  Brownlow. 

"  Never  mind  that.  You  have  had  your  say  on 
that  subject  through  the  columns  of  the  Whig,     Now 


The  Fighting  Parson 


let  me  talk.  We  have  labored  long  and  hard  to 
secure  the  building  of  railroads  to  Knoxville." 

"And  no  man  harder  than  I,"  said  Brownlow. 

"  Gentlemen,"  interrupted  Wood,  "  this  is  beside 
the  mark.  The  question  is  not  one  of  finance 
or  of  business  interests.  The  matter  of  destruc- 
tion of  property  is  not  now  to  be  considered  from 
its  business,  but  from  its  military,  point  of  view. 
Mr.  Brownlow  has  incited  his  minions  to  rise  and 
destroy  the  railroads.  He  has  taunted  us  with  our 
misfortunes,  and  has  published  them  to  our  enemies. 
He  has  hindered  enlistments,  and  has  given  aid  to 
the  miscreants  who  are  waylaying  and  murdering  our 
soldiers.      Forbearance  has  ceased  to  be  a  virtue." 

"Indeed  it  has,"  said  Brownlow.  "You  hypo- 
crite, parson  at  once  and  henchman  of  Jeff  Davis  ! 
You  have  stolen  the  livery  of  heaven  to  serve  the 
devil  in !  You  preach  on  Sunday,  and  in  the  week 
encourage  your  drunken  troops  to  enter  my  prem- 
ises, brandish  their  weapons,  throw  filth  at  my  house, 
insult  my  wife  and  children,  and  threaten  my  life  !  " 

"  I  have  done  no  such  thing,"  said  Wood.  "  I 
have  tried  to  restrain  my  troops.  You  have  goaded 
them  to  desperation.  You  have  flaunted  the  Union 
rag  in  their  face  from  the  roof  of  the  veranda  of 
your  house.  You  have  abused  them  through  the 
columns  of  your  paper  and  in  private  and  public 
speech." 

"  You  are  a  lying  hypocrite,"  said  Brownlow ;  "  a 
renegade  minister  of  the  Gospel.  You  have  laid  aside 
the  robes  of  the  sacred  office  you  dishonored,  to  be- 
come a  traitor  against  your  God  and  your  country !  " 

Colonel  Wood  rose  from  his  seat. 


82  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Mr.  Brownlow,  I  will  not  bandy  abusive  epi- 
thets with  you.  I  will  at  least  be  a  gentleman. 
And  I  will  not  wait  until  my  insulted  manhood 
goads  me  to  use  my  position  to  bring  upon  you  the 
punishment  in  my  power,  and  which  you  so  richly 
deserve.  It  is  an  errand  of  kindness  that  has 
brought  us  here.  Mr.  Sumner  is  your  friend.  I, 
in  spite  of  all  your  abuse,  am  a  brother  minister. 
We  have  come  to  say  that  this  must  stop.  The 
grand  jury  is  now  in  session,  and,  within  a  week, 
will  have  an  indictment  against  you  for  treason. 
You  know  what  will  happen,  if  you  are  tried  on  that 
charge.  Better  men  than  you,  and  men  who  have 
been  less  flagrantly  guilty,  have  been  hanged.  Now, 
sir,  will  you  take  the  oath  and  escape  this  ?  " 

Parson  Brownlow  rose  to  his  feet  and  faced  the 
colonel,  his  sallow  face  terrible  to  look  upon  in  his 
wrath. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  with  your  proposal 
to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  your  hell-born  and 
hell-bound  government  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Parson  Brownlow,  wait  a  minute,"  said  Mr. 
Sumner ;  "  I  do  not  think  you  would  be  required  to 
take  the  oath.  We  know  your  convictions,  and  no 
honorable  man  would  ask  you  to  falsify  them.  And 
I,  and  many  of  your  neighbors  who  do  not  agree 
with  you,  would  be  perfectly  willing  to  go  your  bond 
upon  your  simple  promise  not  to  utter  or  print 
treasonable  words  against  the  Confederacy." 

"  Such  a  promise,  Mr.  Sumner,  I  will  never  make. 
You  may  hang  me,  but  you  can  never  muzzle  me. 
I  have  committed  no  offence.  I  have  not  shouldered 
arms  against    the   Confederate    government  or    the 


The  Fighting  Parson  83 

State,  or  encouraged  others  to  do  so.  I  have  dis- 
couraged rebelHon,  publicly  and  privately.  I  have 
protested  against  the  outrages  of  this  military  des- 
potism. I  have  refused  to  make  war  on  the  govern- 
ment of  the  United  States.  I  have  refused  to 
publish  to  the  world  false  and  exaggerated  accounts 
of  the  several  engagements  had  between  the  contend- 
ing armies.  I  have  refused  to  write  out  and  publish 
false  versions  of  the  origin  of  the  war,  and  of  the 
breaking  up  of  the  best  government  the  world  ever 
knew.  All  this  I  will  continue  to  do,  if  it  costs  me 
my  life.  Nay,  when  I  agree  to  do  otherwise,  may  a 
righteous  God  palsy  my  right  arm,  and  may  the  earth 
open  and  close  in  upon  me  forever  !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  as  he  went 
out ;  "  if  you  bring  yourself  to  the  gallows  with  your 
obdurate  treason,  your  blood  be  upon  your  own 
head." 

"  Pray  that  it  be  not  on  yours,"  retorted  Brown- 
low,  "  you  have  blood  enough  there  already." 

Mr.  Sumner  remained  with  Brownlow  after  the 
withdrawal  of  the  officer. 

"  Mr.  Brownlow,  I  am  sorry  that  you  insist  upon 
a  course  which  can  but  involve  you  in  trouble." 

"  Why  should  it  involve  trouble  ?  Does  not  this 
detestable  government  believe  in  the  freedom  of  the 
press  ?  Has  not  Jeff  Davis  himself  said,  and  with 
reference  to  my  paper,  that  he  would  not  live  in  a 
government  in  which  the  press  was  not  free  ?  And 
now  the  whole  Confederate  government  insists  on 
breaking  down  the  one  newspaper  in  all  these  eleven 
States  that  dares  to  expose  the  evils  of  this  cursed 
rebellion." 


84  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  I  cannot  talk  of  that  with  you,  Mr.  Brownlow ; 
but,  as  a  friend,  I  urge  you  to  think  of  your  own 
safety.  I  must  say  that  I  think  it  exceedingly  un- 
wise for  you  to  continue  the  Whigy 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Sumner,  that  I  have 
already  determined  to  suspend  the  Whig.  I  know 
that  my  arrest  is  determined.  I  shall  not  wait  to 
be  arrested,  knowing  what  trial  would  mean  under 
the  practices  of  this  rebellion.  I  am  now  reading 
the  proofs  of  what  is  to  be  for  the  present  the  last 
issue  of  the  Whig.  I  am  reprinting  to  begin  with 
the  articles  which  have  been  most  criticised.  I 
want  them  to  stand  as  my  unalterable  declaration 
of  principles.  And  here  is  my  final  editorial.  I 
shall  not  leave  until  this  last  issue  is  printed  and 
distributed.  I  may  be  arrested  before  I  can  get 
away.  If  I  am  cast  into  prison,  I  want  this  edi- 
torial to  speak  my  final  word  to  my  constituency. 
I  have  said  here  what  I  think  of  the  boasted  free- 
dom of  the  press  in  the  Southern  Confederacy.  I 
have  reviewed  the  course  that  brings  me  to  prison. 
Here  is  a  paragraph  which  you  may  care  to  read." 

Mr.  Sumner  took  the  damp  proof-sheet,  and  read  : 

"  I  shall  in  no  degree  feel  humbled  by  being  cast  into 
prison,  whenever  it  is  the  will  and  pleasure  of  this  august 
government  to  put  me  there ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  I 
shall  feel  proud  of  my  confinement.  I  shall  go  to  jail,  as 
John  Rogers  went  to  the  stake,  for  mv  principles.  I  shall 
go  because  I  have  failed  to  recognize  the  hand  of  God 
in  the  breaking  up  of  the  American  government,  and  the 
inauguration  of  the  most  wicked,  cruel,  unnatural,  and 
uncalled-for  war  ever  recorded  in  history.  I  go  because  I 
have    refused   to    laud   to   the   skies    the   acts   of  tyrannv. 


The  Fighting  Parson  85 

usurpation,  and  oppression  inflicted  upon  the  people  of 
East  Tennessee  for  their  devotion  to  the  constitution  and 
laws  of  the  government  handed  down  to  them  by  their 
fathers,  and  the  liberties  secured  to  them  by  a  war  of  seven 
long  years  of  gloom,  poverty,  and  trial.  I  repeat,  I  am 
proud  of  my  position  and  my  principles,  and  shall  leave 
them  to  my  children  as  a  legacy  far  more  valuable  than  a 
princely  fortune,  had  I  the  latter  to  bestow. 

"  The  people  of  this  country  have  been  unaccustomed 
to  such  wrongs.  They  are  astounded  for  the  time  being 
with  the  quick  succession  of  outrages  that  have  come  upon 
them,  and  they  stand  horror-stricken  like  men  expecting 
ruin  and  annihilation.  I  may  not  live  to  see  the  day,  but 
thousands  of  my  readers  will,  when  the  people  of  this  once 
prosperous  country  will  look  these  wanton  outrages  upon 
life  and  liberty  full  in  the  face,  and  will  '  stir  the  stones  of 
Rome  to  rise  and  mutiny.'  The  people  of  this  country, 
downtrodden  and  oppressed,  still  have  the  resolution  of 
their  illustrious  forefathers,  who  asserted  their  rights  at 
Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill ! 

"  Exchanging,  with  proud  satisfaction,  the  endearments 
of  home  for  a  cell  in  the  prison,  or  the  lot  of  an  exile, 
"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  etc., 

"  William  G.  Brownlow, 

"  Editor  of  the  Knoxville  Whig. 

"  Knoxville,  October  24,  1861." 

"How  do  you  like  it?"  asked  the  parson,  as 
Mr.  Sumner  handed  him  back  the  proof. 

"  It  is  characteristic,"  said  Mr.  Sumner. 

"  I  shall  go  down  with  colors  nailed  to  the  mast," 
said  the  parson. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Brownlow,  you  had  better  leave 
the  city  as  soon  after  publishing  this  as  possible," 

"  I  shall  leave  in  a  few  days,  if  they  do  not  arrest 


86  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

me  first.  But  I  shall  not  go  at  once.  I  shall  wait  and 
see  how  it  affects  the  rebels.  I  will  not  fire  from 
ambush.  They  may  arrest  me,  if  they  wish,  after 
seeing  my  last  utterance.     But  I  shall  not  stay  long." 

Mr.  Sumner  took  his  departure,  and  called  on 
Colonel  Wood. 

"  Bear  with  the  brave  old  man  a  little  longer,"  he 
said,  "  and  do  not  be  in  haste  to  arrest  him,  even  if 
the  indictment  is  found.  The  matter  will  adjust 
itself  in  a  few  days,  and  save  you  the  criticism  that 
would  surely  follow  if  he  were  to  be  arrested." 

So  Parson  Brownlow  pubhshed  the  last  issue  of 
the  JVhig^  and  waited  about  Knoxville  for  a  week 
without  molestation.  Then  he  began  preparations 
for  an  extended  absence  from  home.  He  had  had 
his  say.  He  had  waited  after  the  firing  of  his  last 
shot.      He  was  ready  now  to  go  to  prison  or  to  exile, 

Brownlow's  enemies  rejoiced,  and  his  friends  were 
relieved  when  he  left  Knoxville,  He  had  been  a 
thorn  in  the  flesh  of  the  Confederates  for  months, 
and  that  he  was  allowed  to  continue  so  long,  spoke 
much  for  their  forbearance.  His  unsparing  invec- 
tives, his  incisive  taunts,  his  pious,  but  none  the 
less  vigorous,  imprecations,  were  more  than  could 
be  borne  by  a  city  filled  with  hostile  soldiers,  who 
suffered  week  by  week  under  the  lash  of  his  tongue 
and  pen.  For  a  few  days  he  rode  about  Blount  and 
Sevier  counties,  collecting  debts  that  were  due  him 
for  advertising  in  his  paper.  He  returned  secretly 
to  Knoxville  and  spent  the  first  Sunday  in  Novem- 
ber, and  then  withdrew  again,  and  none  too  soon, 
for  an  event  occurred  which  compelled  him  to  flee 
for  his  life,  and  hide  in  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains. 


VII 

Burning  the  Bridges 

A  GROUP  of  men  were  gathered  on  Friday, 
the  7th  of  November,  in  the  woods  near 
the    East   Tennessee    railroad.       The    sun 
had  gone  down,  and  the  short  twihght  was 
deepening  into  night. 

"  We're  all  here,  boys,  I  reckon,"  said  Jacob 
Hanson. 

"  Yes,  all  here,"  said  Henry. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  you're  with  us.  Hank,"  said 
his  neighbor,  Hensie. 

"  So  am  I.  It  ain't  quite  in  line  with  my  instruc- 
tions, but  it's  helping  the  Union  army." 

"  Yes,  this  railroad  has  been  haulin'  a  stream  of 
rebel  fire  right  through  East  Tennessy  the  last  year. 
What  with  the  cotton  States  to  the  south,  an' 
V'ginny  to  the  east,  we've  had  to  take  it  from  both 
sides  along  the  line  of  this  road." 

"  An'  our  friends  sent  south  to  rebel  prisons, 
too." 

"  Yes  ;  that  was  what  made  Parson  Brownlow  the 
maddest.  He  said  to  let  the  railroad  that  tuck  our 
loyal  men  south  to  prison  be  etarnally  destroyed." 

"  Well,  that's  about  wut's  goin'  to  be  did.  Have 
you  got  the  fire  ?  " 

"  Yep.  You  reckon  we've  got  pine  knots 
enough.?" 

87 


A  Hero  in  Homespun 


"  Plenty.  We  mustn't  use  more'n  half  on  'em 
at  the  first  bridge.     We'll  need  half  for  the  other." 

"  What  shall  we  use  besides  the  pine  knots  ?  " 

"  Tear  down  the  neardest  rail  fence  and  pile  on 
top." 

"  Better  let  that  liquor  alone,  boys,"  said  Jacob 
Hanson,  for  some  of  the  men  were  passing  a  bottle 
too  frequently.     "  We'll  need  to  be  cool  to-night." 

"  Who's  at  the  head  of  this  expedition  ?  "  asked 
Henry.  "  I  didn't  know  about  it  till  I  got  home 
to-night." 

"  Parson  Carter,  of  Carter  County.  He's  kin  of 
your  cun'l.  He's  planned  the  burning  of  six 
bridges  to-night,  taking  in  all  the  important  ones 
for  a  hundred  miles  each  side  o'  Knoxville." 

"Parson  Carter!"  exclaimed  Henry.  "Why,  it 
was  to  Rev.  William  B.  Carter  I  brought  my  mes- 
sage from  General  Thomas." 

"  Sartin.  Pap  Thomas  knows  about  it,  an'  so 
does  Abe  Lincoln,  an'  they  want  the  bridges  burned 
just  as  the  Union  army  moves  through  the  Gap." 

"  Put  away  that  bottle,  boys,"  again  said  Jacob. 
"  Whiskey's  all  right  in  its  place,  but  you've  had 
enough  fur  to-night." 

They  made  their  way  through  the  woods  to  where 
the  railroad  crosses  a  creek  of  considerable  width. 
They  looked  up  and  down  the  track.  No  train 
was  in  sight.     No  soul  was  about. 

"  Henry,  you  fetch  half  the  pine,  an'  the  rest  of 
you  go  for  them  fence  rails,"  said  Jacob  ;  "  and  here, 
Sam,  give  me  that  fire." 

Jacob  Hanson  moved  to  the  middle  of  the  wooden 
bridge,  and  blew  and  blew  till  the  dull  coal  glowed, 


Burning  the  Bridges  89 

and,  placing  it  upon  a  tie  in  the  middle  of  the  bridge, 
continued  to  blow,  while  he  laid  upon  it  slivers 
which  Henry  tore  from  the  pine.  In  a  moment  a 
bright  blaze  appeared,  and  more  pine  was  added. 
Jacob  held  the  knots  till  they  were  well  ablaze,  and 
laid  skilfully  the  dry  sticks  which  Henry  brought 
to  him.  It  was  some  distance  to  a  fence,  and  the 
fire  was  mounting  high  when  the  rails  began  to 
come.  Eight  sturdy  fellows  came  carrying  two  long 
rails  each,  and  one  or  two  brought  three.  They 
went  back  and  brought  another  load,  and  then  a 
third,  and  Jacob  and  Henry  laid  them  diagonally 
across  the  fire. 

"  Lay  'em  criss-cross,  Henry,  not  straight,  like 
that.  Lay  'em  so's  when  they  burn  in  two  they 
won't  drap  inter  the  water.  Thar.  Leave  open 
spaces  for  the  fire  to  git  through,  thataway.  Hit's 
as  good  as  a  grate  an'  a  chimbly.  Them  iron  tracks 
makes  mighty  good  fire  dogs,  an'  the  fence  rails  is 
dry  as  punk.  Ef  hit  don't  all  burn  'thout  ketchin' 
the  ties.  No,  they're  gittin'  lit.  Now  they're 
burnin'.    All  right,  boys  !     Now  fur  the  Holston  !  " 

"  You  don't  have  no  sorter  doubt  this  is  right,  do 
you,  Fry  ? "  asked  a  man  named  Haun. 

"  Not  a  mite.     Do  you,  Hensie  ?  " 

"  Nary  bit.  Wen  the  Union  army  comes  down, 
ef  the  railroad  is  here  the  rebs  will  jes'  jump  on  the 
train  an'  git  to  kingdom  come  before  the  Union 
sojers  kin  ketch  'em.  We  mus'  keep  'em  here  till 
the  army  comes.  They've  tuck  away  our  guns  so's 
we  cyan't  fight  much,  but  we  kin  hold  'em  wile  the 
army  licks  'em." 

"  I   call   this   part  o'    the    lickin',"    said    Henry. 


go  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  It's  the  railroad  fetches  'em  their  provisions.  Ef  we 
fix  'em  so's  they'll  go  hungry  a  spell,  they'll  know 
how  hit  feels  to  some  o'  the  people  they've  robbed." 

It  was  late  at  night  when  they  came  to  the  bridge 
over  the  Holston.  Near  the  little  hamlet  of  Straw- 
berry Plains  the  railroad  spans  the  river.  Here 
was  a  fine  long  bridge,  built  upon  eleven  piers. 
This  was  a  more  dangerous  attempt.  They  paused 
near  the  bridge  and  laid  their  plans. 

"  Less  git  our  rails  an'  have  'em  near  afore  we  set 
the  fire,"  said  Hensie.  "  They's  a  fence  thisaway. 
Come,  Fry  an'  Haun  !  Mr.  Hanson,  you  bester 
git  yer  pine  knots  a-blazin'  good  afore  we  start,  an' 
Hank,  you  git  ye  a  big  bundle  of  dry  sticks." 

Pursuant  to  this  plan,  the  rails  were  piled  out  of 
sight  at  the  end  of  the  bridge,  and  all  was  in  readi- 
ness for  a  start,  when  a  shout  was  heard  from  the 
guard-house  below  the  bridge. 

"  Hurry,  boys  !  "  cried  Jacob.  "  Half  o'  you 
hold  back  the  guard,  an'  the  rest  come  with  me  ! " 

The  sober  members  of  the  party  for  the  most 
part  stayed  with  Jacob,  and  the  others  engaged  the 
guard.  There  was  but  one  Confederate  soldier 
guarding  the  bridge,  but  he  was  sober  and  brave. 
He  faced  his  half  dozen  assailants  without  flinching, 
and  wounded  two  of  them  before  they  got  near  him. 
In  the  darkness  they  became  confused  and  got  to 
fighting  each  other,  and  then  alarmed  the  men  upon 
the  bridge  with  cries  that  a  large  body  of  soldiers 
was  upon  them.  The  fire  was  blazing  high,  and 
the  whole  party  took  to  their  heels,  bearing  away 
their    wounded    as    they    went.       Then    the    brave 


The   Burning   of  the   Bridges.        Page   90. 


Burning  the  Bridges  91 

guard,  whose  single  arm  had  driven  away  the  burn- 
ers, faint  and  wounded  as  he  was,  attacked  the  fire 
and  saved  the  bridge. 

The  men  were  chagrined  at  their  defeat,  and  the 
sober  ones  bitterly  reproached  the  others.  But  it 
was  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk,  and  besides  they 
had  succeeded  with  one  bridge,  and  four  others  were 
burned  by  other  parties. 

"  You  don't  reckon  they's  any  doubt,  do  you. 
Hank,"   asked    Hensie,  "  that   the    Union  army  is 


sure  a-comm 


'  ?" 


"  Not  a  mite,"  said  Henry.  "  That's  what  I 
come  to  tell  Parson  Carter.  They  was  at  London 
wen  I  lef,  an'  Cun'l  Carter  had  some  men  on 
plumb  to  the  Cumberland  River  at  Barboursville. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  ef  they  had  took  the  Gap  by 
this  time." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Haun.  "  I  wouldn't  mind  so 
much,  but  I'd  sorter  hate  to  git  hung.  I  got  a  wife 
an'  a  fambly  o'  little  fellers,  an'  one's  a  baby.  I'd 
sorter  hate  to  git  hung." 

"  They  wouldn't  none  on  us  like  hit  right  well," 
said  Fry.  "  But  the  kingdom's  a-comin'.  They 
won't  nobody  git  hung  fur  this.  The  rebs  will  be 
so  skeered,  wut  with  our  burnin'  the  bridges  an'  the 
Yankees  a-comin',  they'll  swim  the  streams  to  git 
over  inter  V'ginny  an'   to  the  cotton  States." 

"  An'  they'll  come  out  lack  Pharaoh's  hostis," 
said  Jacob. 

"You're  mighty  right,"  said  Hensie.  "An'  we'll 
sing  to  the  Lord,  for  he  hath  triumphed  gloriously. 
But  I'd  hate  powerful  to  stretch  hemp.  Good 
night,  boys  ! " 


92  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Good  night.  We  won't  stretch  no  hemp.  But 
you  kin  sorter  be  twistin'  some  for  the  rebs." 

Thus  the  men  went  to  their  homes  in  min- 
gled triumph  and  trepidation.  The  plan  which 
they  had  just  executed  had  been  under  con- 
sideration for  months,  ever  since  the  suggestion 
of  the  destruction  of  the  railroads  in  the  Whig^ 
and  the  event  which  had  caused  it  to  be  de- 
cided upon  was  the  news,  brought  by  couriers,  of 
whom  Henry  was  one,  detailed  to  bring  the 
report  of  the  victory  at  Wild  Cat.  Henry  had 
found  the  plot  in  readiness  for  execution  when 
he  arrived  at  home,  and,  flushed  with  the  joy  of 
victory,  he  had  joined  his  father  in  it. 

Colonel  Wood  was  finding  his  position  in  Knox- 
ville  anything  but  a  bed  of  roses.  He  had  tried  to 
be  at  once  a  gentleman,  a  soldier,  and  a  Christian 
minister.  He  preached  at  times  in  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  endeavored  to  promote  among  his 
soldiers  a  spirit  of  reverence  and  fidelity.  But  his 
soldiers  were  not  all  as  pious  as  might  have  been 
expected  of  the  troops  of  such  a  commander,  and 
the  populace  were  in  almost  open  rebellion.  It  was 
a  relief  when  the  Whig  ceased  its  publication,  and 
when  in  the  first  week  of  November  it  was  reported 
that  Brownlow  had  left,  one  thorn  was  withdrawn 
from  the  flesh  of  the  commander.  But  there  was 
other  news  that  greatly  distressed  him.  Following 
the  defeat  at  Wild  Cat,  there  was  the  most  trying 
exhibition  of  effrontery  on  the  part  of  the  loyal  citi- 
zens, and  of  fear  and  distress  on  the  part  of  the 
Southern  sympathizers. 


Burning  the  Bridges  93 

Officers  began  to  send  in  word  that  the  people 
were  getting  out  their  hidden  arms.  One  reported 
that  the  women  were  engaged  in  making  flags,  and 
that  when  discovered  they  did  not  even  attempt  to 
conceal  their  work.  There  was  an  outbreak  of  citi- 
zens against  the  soldiery  in  Knoxville.  There  were 
official  reports  of  similar  outbreaks  elsewhere  in 
East  Tennessee. 

In  distress,  Colonel  Wood  wrote  to  General 
ZollicoflFer : 

"Knoxville,  October  28,  1861. 

"  General  :  — The  news  of  your  falling  back  to  Cum- 
berland Ford  has  had  the  effect  of  developing  a  feeling  that 
had  only  been  kept  under  by  the  presence  of  troops.  It 
was  plainly  visible  that  the  Union  men  were  so  glad  that 
they  could  hardly  repress  an  open  expression  of  their  joy. 
This  afternoon  it  assumed  an  open  character,  and  some 
eight  or  ten  of  the  bullies,  or  leaders,  made  an  attack  on 
some  of  my  men,  near  the  Lamar  House,  and  seriously 
wounded  several.  Gentlemen  who  witnessed  the  whole 
affair  say  that  my  men  gave  no  offence  and  were  not  at  all 
to  blame.  The  affair  became  general  directly,  and  the 
couriers  were  sent  to  apprise  me  at  my  camp  of  its  exist- 
ence. I  immediately  marched  Captain  White's  cavalry 
and  one  hundred  of  my  men  into  the  town  to  arrest  the 
assailants,  but  they  made  their  escape, 

"  The  Southerners  here  are  considerably  alarmed,  believ- 
ing that  there  is  a  preconcerted  plan  for  a  united  action 
among  the  Union  men,  if  by  any  means  the  enemy  shall 
get  into  Tennessee.  Lieutenant  Swan  told  me  to-night 
that  he  heard  one  say  this  evening,  as  Captain  White's 
cavalry  rode  through  town,  that  '  they  could  do  so  now ; 
but  in  less  than  ten  days  the  Union  forces  would  be  here, 
and  run  them  off.'      I  cannot  well  tell  you  the  many  evi- 


94  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

dences  of  disaffection  which  are  manifested  every  day,  and 
the  increased  boldness  that  it  is  assuming. 
"  Very  respectfully, 

"W.   B.  Wood,  Col.  Com'g  Post. 
"  Brigadier  General  Zollicoffer." 


There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  letter  contains 
the  exact  truth.  The  relations  of  the  citizens  to 
the  soldiers  were  strained  to  the  breaking  point. 
The  case  was  parallel  to  that  in  Boston  at  the  time 
of  what  is  called  the  Boston  Massacre.  The  only 
thing  needed  to  goad  the  loyal  men  to  action  was 
the  approach  of  the  army  of  Thomas.  This,  and 
the  suppression  of  the  tVhig,  were  the  two  events 
that  brought  matters  to  a  crisis. 

Colonel  Wood  began  to  be  uncertain  whether  he 
had  not  erred  on  the  side  of  mercy  in  letting 
Parson  Brownlow  escape.  He  knew  every  foot 
of  East  Tennessee.  He  was  known  to  all  the 
people.  If  he  were  to  go  out  among  them  on  the 
heels  of  this  news,  and  speak  at  meetings  and  in- 
flame the  people,  adding  to  all  his  other  pleas  that  of 
his  own  persecution  and  exile,  to  what  acts  of  mutiny 
might  he  not  stir  the  people  ?  Something  dreadful 
was  certain  to  happen,  and  it  had  been  a  mistaken 
kindness  that  had  allowed  him  to  leave  the  city. 

These  were  the  last  thoughts  of  Colonel  Wood 
as  he  lay  down  to  sleep  the  Friday  night  after  the 
departure  of  Brownlow.  He  awoke  next  morning 
with  a  start.  There  was  pounding  at  his  door.  A 
messenger  was  there  in  haste, 

"  Colonel  Wood  !  Colonel  Wood  !  The  bridges 
are  burned !  " 


Burning  the  Bridges  95 

"  The  bridges  ?     What  bridges  ?" 

"  Five  railroad  bridges,  both  sides  of  the  city. 
That  over  the  Holston  was  saved  by  the  most 
desperate  means  !  " 

"  This  is  the  work  of  Brov/nlow  !  "  cried  Wood. 
"  What  a  fool  I  was  to  let  him  go  I  " 

He  dressed  and  examined  the  reports.  The 
bridges  were  widely  separated,  and  must  have  been 
burned  by  different  parties,  acting  in  concert.  The 
railroads  on  which  Knoxville  depended  for  its  con- 
nection with  the  Confederacy,  east  and  south,  were, 
for  the  time  being,  useless.  Knoxville  was  isolated, 
an  island,  in  a  sea  of  loyal  and  determined  men. 
There  was  no  telling  how  strong  and  far-reaching 
the  movement  was.  The  hand  of  Brownlow 
seemed  apparent  in  it. 

He  telegraphed  to  Richmond,  and  received  from 
Secretary  Benjamin  an  order  to  hunt  down  the 
bridge-burners  at  all  hazard,  to  trv  them  before  a 
drum  head  court  martial,  to  hang  them  beside  the 
bridges  they  had  burned,  and  to  leave  their  bodies 
hanging  as  a  warning  to  others.  It  was  a  terrible 
order,  but  the  Confederate  authorities  were  at  their 
wits'  end  how  to  suppress  the  constant  mutiny 
among  the  East  Tennesseeans,  and  had  failed  in 
every  gentler  method. 

Colonel  Wood  set  about  executing  this  order, 
and  said  to  his  men,  as  they  were  drawn  up  on 
horseback  before  starting : 

"  Hunt  down  the  cowardly  bridge-burners  ;  and 
if  you  find  Brownlow,  take  no  chances  of  his  escape. 
If  need  be,  shoot  him  without  mercy." 


96  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

Elizabeth  Casey  was  wakened  on  Saturday  night 
by  a  knock  on  the  door.  It  is  rare  that  any  one 
knocks  in  East  Tennessee.  It  is  customary  to  sit 
on  the  horse  outside  the  fence  and  shout.  It  is  con- 
sidered more  poHte.     It  is  also  at  times  more  prudent. 

"  Who's  thar  ?  "  she  cried,  starting,  and  getting 
out  the  gun. 

"  Hush  up,  Mis'  Casey.  Don't  ye  say  a  word. 
Jis'  git  yer  dress  on,  an'  don'  stop  for  no  extry 
fixin's,  an'  let  me  in.      Hit's  Steph  Crowell." 

"  Wy,  Steph  !  "  she  exclaimed,  opening  the  door 
after  a  very  brief  delay  ;  "  wut's  the  matter  ?  Wut 
on  airth  fetches  ye  hyur  at  sech  a  time  o'  night  as 
this  ?  Se'  down  thar.  Wait.  I'll  blow  up  the 
fire,  an'  we'll  hev  a  light." 

"  Don'  make  much  light.  Mis'  Casey.  I'll  jes' 
light  this  leetle  chunk  o'  pine.  Thar.  That's  better. 
Mis'  Casey,  do  ye  know  the  way  to  Sevierville  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  as  well  as  I  know  the  way  to 
the  church  house." 

"  Could  ye  find  it  in  the  night  ?  " 

"  Wy,  sartin,  ef  thev  was  ary  reason  fur  hit." 

"  Well,  they's  reason  enough.  I  want  ye  to  go 
an'  save  the  life  o'  Parson  Brownlow." 

"  I'd  ride  furder'n  thet  to  save  his  life.  Tell  me, 
Steph,  wut's  it  all  about  ?  " 

"  Do  ye  know  'bout  the  burnin'  o'  the  bridges  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  heerd  tell  of  it,  an'  was  mighty  nigh 
tickled  to  death.     Them  was  brave  men,  Steph." 

"  Well,  I  hain't  got  nothin'  to  say  about  thet. 
You  know  I'm  sorter  on  t'other  side,  Mis'  Casey." 

"  You  hain't  nuther,  Steph  Crowell,  an'  you 
know  it." 


Burning  the  Bridges  97 

"  Wall,  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  dispute  with  ye,  but 
hit's  sorter  important  that  ef  I'm  on  the  side  o'  the 
Union,  I  shouldn't  be  thataway  too  strong.  I'm 
sorter  lack  the  feller  down  to  Tasewell  that's  got  up 
in  his  store  a  pictur'  of  a  nigger  slingin'  up  his  hat 
an'  yellin'  '  Dis  Union  furever ! '  Wen  the  rebs 
was  thar  he  tole  'em  them  was  his  sentiments,  an' 
they  read  hit  'Disunion  furever.'  Wen  the  Yanks 
comes,  he's  a-goin'  to  pint  to  hit  jes'  the  same,  an'  let 
'em  read  hit, '  This  Union  furever.'  I'm  sorter  lack 
him,  I  reckon." 

"  That's  a  mighty  bad  way  to  be,  'cordin'  to  my 
way  o'  thinkin'." 

"  Wall,  Mis'  Casey,  I  hain't  got  so  much  time  to 
argify  with  ye  as  I  mought  have  under  other  sar- 
cumstances,  as  the  feller  said  when  he  run  from 
the  sheriff.  Parson  Brownlow's  a-goin'  to  preach 
to-morrer  in  Sevierville,  an'  the  cavalry's  out 
a-scourin'  the  kentry  fur  him.  I  was  in  Knoxville 
las'  night,  an'  the  very  ole  devil's  let  loose  thar. 
Wen  the  news  come,  'peared  lack  the  everlastin' 
bottom  had  fell  plumb  outen  creation.  The  folks 
was  mighty  nigh  skeered  to  death.  Wood,  he  didn't 
know  fur  a  spell  wether  he  was  foot  or  a-hoss- 
back  ;  but  he  knows  now,  an'  he's  a-goin'  to  hang 
Brownlow  or  shoot  him,  one,  ef  he  kin  git  him  in 
range." 

"  May  the  Lord  cause  him  to  fall  into  the  pit  he 
digs  for  the  feet  o'  thet  good  man ! "  ejaculated 
Mrs.  Casey. 

"  That  sounds  a  heap  lack  some  o'  Brownlow's 
sayin's.  Ef  hit  warn't  that  he's  a  preacher,  you 
wouldn't  know  sometimes  wether  he's  a-prayin'  or 


98  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

quotin'  Scripter  chapter  an'  varse,  or  jus'  plain  every- 
day sorter  cussin'." 

"  It's  my  prayer,"  said  Mrs.  Casey. 

"  Wall,  go  ahead,  then  ;  but  ef  you'll  sorter  leave 
me  to  do  the  prayin'  now  till  mornin',  I  want  you  to 
do  somethin'  else." 

"  I'm  afeard  they  wouldn't  be  much  prayin'  done 
ef  it  was  left  to  you,  Steph." 

"  I  don'  know.  I  think  a  heap  more'n  folks 
thinks  I  does  sometimes,  an',  like  as  not,  I'll  be  a 
preacher  yit." 

"  You'll  hatter  break  that  fiddle,  first." 

"  I  reckon  I  hain't  got  no  real  loud  call  to  preach 
yit,  and  the  fiddle  is  sorter  comp'ny  ;  but  I  want  ye 
to  git  onter  the  horse  I  fetched  ye,  an'  go  to  Sevier- 
ville.  Hit'll  be  mornin'  afore  you  git  thar,  an'  the 
parson'll  be  a-preachin',  like  as  not.  You  needn't 
be  afeard  o'  breakin'  the  law  agin  disturbin'  riligious 
meetin's,  but  tell  him  to  git,  mighty  quick.  He's 
as  safe  in  Sevier  County  as  anywere.  Tell  him  to 
git  inter  the  hills  of  the  Big  Smoky.  I  reckon 
some  o'  our  fellers  will  hatter  go  thar,  too,  for  the 
rebs  is  a-huntin'  on  'em  down." 

"  You  think  I  had  orter  go,  stidder  you  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Casey. 

"  Laws,  yes.  Hit  wouldn't  do  fur  me  ter  go.  I 
jes'  come  from  Knoxville.  I  gotter  git  home,  an' 
not  a  ben  away  from  here.  An'  they  cyan't  nobody 
take  no  news  along  the  straight  roads  from  Knox- 
ville out,  for  they've  proclaimed  martial  law,  an' 
nobody  can't  git  outen  Knoxville  without  a  pass.  I 
stole  a  canoe  to  git  out,  myself,  an'  jes'  let  her  drift. 
They  won't  nobody  think  hit  quare  me  a-leavin'  to 


Burning  the  Bridges  99 

come  home,  for  they  didn't  see  me,  an'  I  won't  be 
missed;  but  ef  I  was  to  be  found  at  Sevierville,  I 
dunno  but  wut  they'd  hang  me.  I'm  goin'  to  the 
Hansons*  now  an'  tell  'em  the  news.  They  best  be 
keerful,  for  I  sorter  reckon  mebby  they  know  more 
about  them  bridges  than  they'd  wanter  tell." 

"  I'll  go,  Steph.      Have  ye  got  me  ary  nag  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they's  a  fraish  horse  at  the  door." 

"  Putt  my  side  saddle  on  him,  wile  I  git  my  best 
clothes  on.      It  won't  take  more'n  fi'  minutes." 

It  took  rather  less  than  that,  and  Elizabeth  Casey 
mounted,  saying, 

"Good-by,  Steph.  I'll  be  back  a-Monday.  I 
sorter  wisht  you'd  be  either  hot  or  cold,  but  I  dunno 
but  you're  a  sorter  lack  Nicodemus,  comin'  to  Jesus 
by  night." 

"  Nary  Nicodemus.  More  lack  the  Ole  Nick," 
said  Steph,  whose  best  wit  was  at  his  own  expense. 
"  Good  night.  Mis'  Casey." 

"Good  night,  Steph." 

And  with  that  Elizabeth  was  off. 


VIII 

Retreat  from  a  Vanquished  Foe 

HOWDY,  Jack!  Come  hyur,  Cub  !  Jack 
has  you  more'n's  good  fur  him  sence 
Hank  went  hum.  Come  over  hyur  an' 
I'll  nuss  ye.  Git  up  on  my  shoulder, 
thataway  !  Now,  up  !  Thar !  See  wut  a  big 
man  !  Cun'l  Cyarter  hain't  nowar  !  He's  a  bigger 
man  than  ole  Pap  Thomas  !     Now,  see  him  march  !  " 

The  strapping  sergeant,  Joe  Hallet,  caught  Cub 
up  on  his  shoulder  and  marched  up  and  down 
before  the  tent  with  him. 

"  Now  we'll  march  like  a  gin'r'l,  stiff  an'  slow, 
thisaway  !  Now  we'll  march  like  we  was  goin'  to 
fight  ole  Zolly,  thisaway  !  Now  we'll  march  like 
ole  Zolly  a-runnin'  away  from  Wild  Cat,  thisaway  ! " 

Joe  put  himself  through  all  imaginable  military 
paces  with  Cub  upon  his  shoulder,  Cub  at  times 
giving  orders,  which  were  promptly  obeyed.  A 
group  of  soldiers  always  gathered  about  the  front 
of  the  tent  when  Cub  was  on  parade.  To  hold  him 
was  a  luxury.  To  "  pack  him  "  was  an  honor  to  be 
fought  for.  And  many  a  soldier  looked  at  him  with 
a  soul-hunger  in  his  eyes.  They  were  not  all  saints, 
those  East  Tennesseeans,  and  now  and  then  they 
looted  a  store.  When  they  did  so,  the  first  thing 
to  be  stolen,  not  even  excepting  the  whiskey  and 
tobacco,  was  the   stock  of  baby  shoes,  which  they 


Retreat  from  a  Vanquished  Foe  loi 

tucked  away  in  their  knapsacks  to  take  home  to 
the  Httle  ones  that  rarely  owned  a  shoe. 

"  Did  ye  hear  the  news  from  East  Tennessy, 
Jack  ? " 

"  No ;  what  news  ?  " 

"  Wy,  the  Union  men  have  heerd  that  we're 
comin',  an'  they've  begun  to  organize  an'  git  out 
the  ole  guns  that  they've  hid,  an'  they've  riz  up 
agin  the  rebs.  They  licked  'em  in  Knoxville  t'other 
day,  an'  mighty  nigh  druv  'em  out.  Ole  Wood  had 
to  send  to  Zolly  fur  more  troops.  Zolly's  gittin' 
mighty  skeered  about  the  Gap.  He  knows  we're 
comin'  up  in  front  an'  the  home  folks  behind,  an* 
he's  sorter  between  the  devil  an'   the  deep  sea." 

"  He's  right  about  that." 

"Yes,  an'  las'  Friday  night  the  Union  men  got 
together  at  Hiwassy  an'  at  Lick  Creek  an'  burned 
the  bridges.  They  know  we're  comin'  to  smite  'em 
on  the  one  cheek,  an'  they're  gittin'  good  ready  to 
have  'em  turn  the  other,  an'  wen  they  do,  they'll 
ketch  it  thar,  sure's  the  gun's  iron." 

"  Bully  fur  the  bridge-burners  !      Haey  !  " 

The  Southerner  cheers  when  he  is  mildly  jubi- 
lant, but  in  his  intensest  moments  he  breaks  forth 
into  a  yell  that  rends  the  air  with  indescribable 
effect.  It  was  such  a  yell  that  now  went  up,  —  a 
yell  of  triumph  over  the  patriotic  uprising  of  their 
kindred  at  home  and  of  hope  soon  to  share  with 
them  a  larger  victory. 

"  Who's  that  yander  ? "  suddenly  asked  one  of  them. 

A  horseman  had  passed  the  lines  and  was  coming 
with  news.  His  horse  was  wet  and  spattered  and 
had  been  deep  in  the  mud  of  the  road. 


I02  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Hit's  Lew  Bailey,"  said  Jack.  Lew  had  been 
one  of  the  several  messengers  sent  into  East  Ten- 
nessee to  report  the  Wild  Cat  victory  and  prepare 
the  people  for  the  incursion  of  the  troops. 

"  Hi,  Lew  !     Wut's  the  news  ?  " 

Lew  drew  rein  for  a  moment  and  let  his  horse 
breathe. 

"  I  got  thar  an'  back  all  right,"  said  Lew.  "  Had 
to  come  back  by  the  Big  Creek  Gap  an'  through  the 
edge  of  Whitley.     But  I'm  here." 

"  Yes,  you're  all  right.     But  how's  the  folks  ?  " 

"  Tol'able.  They're  gittin'  mighty  anxious  to  see 
us.      Heerd  'bout  the  bridge-burnin'  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  we  jis'  heerd." 

"  Wall,  they're  arrestin'  Union  men  right  an'  left 
fur  that.  Wood's  proclaimed  martial  law  in  Knox- 
ville.  Brownlow's  tuck  to  the  woods.  They'd  hang 
him  sure  ef  they  got  him.  They've  hung  some 
a' ready  an'  goin'  to  hang  more.  Hank  Hanson  an' 
his  dad  was  in  hit.  They  hain't  arrested  them  yit, 
but  I  reckon  they  will  ef  we  don'  git  thar  soon. 
The  people  cyan't  stan'  hit  no  longer.  They  want 
us  to  come  right  off.  Ef  we  don'  go  mighty  soon, 
they  won't  be  none  on  'em  lef  wen  we  do  get  thar." 

Lew  rode  on  to  headquarters  to  report,  and  the 
news  quickly  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  The 
whole  camp  was  aflame.  Then  word  came  that 
another  courier  had  arrived  from  Crab  Orchard 
with  messages  from  General  Thomas.  There  could 
be  but  one  message  now,  they  all  thought,  and 
began  their  preparations  for  breaking  camp.  In  an 
hour  the  long  roll  beat,  and  the  men  fell  in.  Every 
heart  beat  high.     Visions  of  victory  and  of  home 


Retreat  from  a  Vanquished  Foe  103 

rose  before  the  minds  of  two  thousand  homesick 
and  loyal  men.  Colonel  Carter  took  his  position 
before  the  brigade. 

"  Attention  !  "     The  order  rang  clear  and  strong. 

"  You  are  commanded  to  prepare  to  break  camp  ! " 

A  wild  cheer  broke  forth  from  the  ranks  that 
swelled  into  a  jubilant  yell. 

"Attention  !  Keep  silent !  By  order  of  General 
Sherman,  issued  November  nth,  General  Thomas 
is  to  withdraw  his  command  to  the  north  side  of  the 
Kentucky  River." 

The  men  listened  in  mute  astonishment. 

Colonel  Carter  proceeded, 

"  As  a  Tennesseean  I  can  understand  your  dis- 
appointment at  this  order,  which  is  also  a  surprise 
and  disappointment  to  me.  General  Sherman  anti- 
cipates a  movement  of  the  joint  forces  of  ZoUicofFer 
and  Johnston.  He  believes  that  they  intend  to 
join  forces  and  penetrate  between  his  two  divisions, 
attacking  Lexington  and  Frankfort.  We  are  there- 
fore commanded  to  fall  back  to  Camp  Nelson." 

Colonel  Carter  gave  the  message  with  evident 
sorrow  and  chagrin.  He  did  his  best  to  explain  the 
matter  to  the  credit  of  his  superior  officers,  but  the 
explanation  was  lost  upon  his  men. 

Andrew  Johnson  was  at  the  little  tavern,  and 
came  out  to  inquire  the  cause  of  the  assembling  of 
the  soldiers. 

"  Are  you  to  advance  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you.  Senator,  that  we  are  to 
fall  back  to  Camp  Nelson,"  said  Colonel  Carter. 

"  Fall  back  !  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  does 
this  mean  ?  "  cried  Johnson. 


I04  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  I  am  so  ordered  by  General  Thomas." 
"And  what  is  Thomas  thinking  of? " 
"  He  has  his  orders  from  General  Sherman." 
"  It  is  an  outrage  !  "   cried  Johnson.     "  It  is  in- 
famous !     It  is  an  order  that  should  be  disobeyed  !" 
"  Senator  Johnson,  I  must  not  allow  you  to  speak 
so  in  the  presence  of  the  soldiers.     The  order  must 
be  obeyed." 

"  Colonel  Carter,  do  you  know  that  your  people 
and  mine  are  suffering  martyrdom  in  East  Tennes- 
see ?  Do  you  know  that  all  that  is  keeping  them 
alive  is  the  hope  of  the  coming  of  this  army  ?  That 
they  strain  their  eyes  to  see  it  coming,  and  pray 
God  for  it  night  and  day  ?  Do  you  know  that  the 
rebels  are  stricken  with  consternation  at  our  approach 
and  our  victory  at  Wild  Cat  ?  Do  you  know  that 
the  Union  men,  rejoicing  in  our  approach,  and 
stimulated  by  our  messages  of  encouragement,  have 
risen  against  their  oppressors,  and  have  put  their 
own  necks  in  the  halter  for  very  joy  of  our  coming, 
and  the  desire  to  do  something  to  co-operate  with 
US  r 

"  I  know  all  that.  I  myself  am  an  East  Ten- 
nesseean." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  desert  your  own  people 
in  this  extremity  ?  Do  you  mean  to  turn  your  back 
on  them  in  their  distresses,  and  leave  them  to  be 
imprisoned  and  hanged,  when  it  is  fully  in  our 
power  to  fly  to  their  relief.''  " 

"  Senator  Johnson,  I  have  no  choice.  I  am 
eager  to  press  on.  I  believe  that  we  could  do  it. 
But  I  cannot  go  against  the  positive  command  of 
my  superior,  and  I  must  not  allow  you  to  speak  so 


Retreat  from  a  Vanquished  Foe  105 

in  the  presence  of  the  soldiers,  who  already  have  all 
that  they  can  bear  without  mutiny." 

"  Bring  me  my  horse  ! "  cried  Johnson,  and  he 
was  soon  riding  post-haste  to  Crab  Orchard. 

"  General  Thomas,  this  is  infamous  !  "  he  cried. 

"  I  cannot  help  it.  Senator.  I  have  sent  word  to 
General  Sherman  that  I  am  sure  his  fears  are  ground- 
less, and  that  the  messenger  whom  I  sent  would 
hasten  back  with  other  orders,  if  he  should  see  fit 
to  change  them.  He  has  not  changed  them,  and 
I  must  obey  orders,  and  so  must  my  men." 

"  It  is  slavery,"  cried  Johnson.  "  And  our  people 
are  being  ground  down  in  tyranny,  and  we  desert 
them  in  their  extremity  !  " 

"  Senator  Johnson,"  said  Thomas,  "  the  right  of 
free  speech  which  is  yours  in  the  Senate,  must  not 
here  be  exercised  to  the  point  of  inciting  the  soldiers 
to  disobedience.  Senator  as  you  are,  if  you  say 
more,  I  will  arrest  you  !  " 

And  Andrew  Johnson  bit  his  lip,  and  in  sorrow 
saw  the  order  with  equal  sorrow  obeyed. 

General  Sherman  did  his  best  in  after  years  to 
explain  that  strange  command,  with  what  success 
must  be  judged  by  readers  of  his  "  Memoirs."  -^  He 
was  overwrought  and  nervous,  and  a  score  of  news- 
papers declared  that  he  was  insane;  and  General 
Halleck  relieved  him  from  duty,  saying,  "  I  am 
satisfied  that  General  Sherman's  physical  and  men- 

1  A  part  of  Sherman's  prejudice  against  East  Tennessee  must  be  attributed  to 
his  just  estimate  of  the  difficulties  of  military  operation  there,  but  part  also  to  his  too 
low  estimate  of  its  military  importance.  As  late  as  December  i,  1863,  he  wrote 
to  General  Grant :  "  Recollect  that  East  Tennessee  is  my  horror.  That  any  man 
should  send  a  force  into  East  Tennessee  puzzles  me.  Burnside  is  there  and  must  be 
relieved,  but  when  relieved,  I  want  to  get  out,  and  he  should  come  out,  too." 


io6  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

tal  system  is  so  completely  broken  by  labor  and 
care  as  to  render  him,  for  the  present,  unfit  for 
duty." 

General  Sherman  to  the  end  of  his  life  resented 
the  suggestion  that  his  command  had  been  an 
unnatural  one,  or  that  his  mental  condition  was 
such  as  to  prejudice  sound  military  judgment.  He 
contended  that  Johnston  and  Zollicoffer  might 
have  made  the  movement  which  he  anticipated,  and 
he  never  could  understand  why  they  did  not.  The 
reason  probably  was  a  very  simple  one,  that  they 
had  far  more  reason  to  fear  Sherman  than  he  had 
to  fear  them,  and  the  last  place  on  earth  where 
Johnston  or  Zollicoffer  would  willingly  have  gone, 
was  between  Sherman's  two  divisions. 

For  weeks  the  political  leaders  of  East  Tennessee 
had  been  in  Sherman's  camp  urging  him  to  come 
to  the  rescue  of  the  loyal  people  of  that  region. 
He  stoutly  declared,  and  repeated  the  mistake  in 
hi's  book,  that  "  the  people  of  the  whole  South  " 
were  "in  rebellion";  that  before  he  could  be  secure 
in  his  present  position,  he  must  have  sixty  thousand 
troops  from  the  North,  and  that  for  any  offensive 
movement  two  hundred  thousand  would  be  needed. 
He  did  not  overestimate  the  magnitude  of  the 
undertaking,  but  he  reckoned  without  one  important 
item  —  the  loyalty  of  the  mountaineers. 

Why  should  not  the  Armv  of  the  Cumberland 
have  marched  into  Knoxville  before  the  close  of 
1861  ?  Zollicoffer  might  have  been  driven  from 
Kentucky  within  a  month  after  the  Wild  Cat  fight. 
He  might  have  been  driven  from  Knoxville  before 
the   winter   set   in.      Knoxville    cost   us    dear   when 


Retreat  from  a  Vanquished  Foe  107 

months  afterward  it  fell  into  our  hands.  Alas  for 
the  delay  and  loss  of  life  that  came  from  "  assum- 
ing the  people  of  the  whole  South  to  be  in  rebel- 
lion ! "  One  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  loyal 
soldiers  came  from  out  the  southern  mountains 
to  disprove  that  assumption. 

Whatever  the  answers  from  a  military  point  of 
view  to  the  questions  about  that  campaign,  they 
did  not  suggest  themselves  to  the  East  Tennes- 
seeans.     Parson  Brownlow  wrote  in  1862  : 

"  It  has  been  a  matter  of  surprise  that  our  army 
did  not  march  upon  East  Tennessee  long  ago, 
capture  Knoxville,  and  take  possession  of  that 
great  railroad.  It  was  certainly  owing  to  bad  gen- 
eralship in  Kentucky." 

Four  days  afterward  General  Sherman  was  re- 
lieved, and  General  Buell  arrived  to  take  his  place, 
but  the  Tennessee  troops  were  already  back  at 
Crab  Orchard.  The  roads  were  bad.  The  winter 
was  near,  and  General  Buell,  while  discarding  Gen- 
eral Sherman's  theory  of  danger  from  a  Confed- 
erate advance,  held  that  East  Tennessee  was  not 
in  itself  worth  taking ;  that  to  justify  an  advance 
into  it  there  must  be  some  ulterior  point,  which  as 
yet  he  had  not  force  enough  to  attempt.  And  so 
East  Tennessee  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Con- 
federates. 


IX 

A  Loyal  Deserter 

IT  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  upon  the 
East  Tennessee  brigade  of  the  order  to  retire 
from  the  movement  against  the  Gap.  The 
Confederates  laughed  long  and  loud  over  "  the 
Wild  Cat  stampede "  ;  but  the  men  who  had  set 
their  hearts  upon  fighting  under  the  old  flag  for  the 
redemption  of  their  homes  were  filled  with  amaze- 
ment and  with  shame.  They  pleaded,  they  pro- 
tested, they  cursed,  they  prayed,  they  even  wept. 
They  threw  down  their  guns  and  declared  that  they 
would  never  move  backward.  But  most  of  them 
finally  fell  in  as  good  soldiers,  though  they  knew,  or 
thought  they  knew,  "  some  one  had  blundered." 
But  here  and  there  a  stubborn  soul  stood  out. 

"  I  enlisted  to  fight,  an'  not  to  run,"  cried  Joe 
Hallet,  "  an'  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  run,  nuther." 

"  Ef  I  gotter  run,"  said  Lew  Bailey,  "  I  wanter 
run  from  some  one  that's  a-lickin'  me,  not  from 
some  one  I'm  a-lickin'.  I  wanter  fight  an'  let  the 
rebs  do  the  runnin'.      I'll  be  durned  ef  I'll  do  both." 

"  Who's  Sherman,  anyhow  ? "  demanded  Sim 
Galloway. 

"  He's  a  fool,  whoever  he  is ! "  said  another. 
"Why  don't  they  let  Pap  Thomas  run  this  thing? 
He  knows  what's  what." 

Jack  Casey  sorrowfully  prepared  to  march.     His 

io8 


A   Loyal   Deserter  109 

cheeks  were  red  with  anger,  and  his  head  hung  for 
shame.  The  tears  dropped  from  his  eyes  as  he 
thought  of  his  mother  and  her  defenceless  position. 
Then  there  were  Henry  and  his  father,  in  prison, 
probably,  by  this  time,  and  to  be  hanged,  as  likely 
as  not.  And  the  army  that  should  be  flying  to 
their  rescue  was  turning  its  back  upon  them  there 
upon  the  gallows  for  their  country's  sake.  He 
could  not,  he  would  not.  It  was  not  for  this  that 
he  had  enlisted.  It  was  not  for  this  that  he  would 
stay.  He  would  go  back  to  Tennessee  and  share 
the  fate  of  his  people.  He  would  go  back  and  de- 
fend his  mother.  He  would  go  back  and  help  to 
rescue  Henry  and  his  father.  He  would  go  back 
and  die,  if  need  be,  but  he  would  not  run  from  the 
face  of  a  beaten  foe. 

He  packed  his  knapsack  and  filled  his  haversack 
with  food.  He  gathered  his  simple  belongings  to- 
gether and  rolled  up  his  blanket.  Then  he  took 
Cub  by  the  hand,  and  started  toward  the  wagons 
that  were  loading  for  the  march  ;  but  he  did  not  go 
to  them.  Starting  off  at  an  angle  where  the  road 
forks  beyond  London,  he  turned  into  the  forest 
toward  the  east.  He  set  Cub  on  his  knapsack  with 
legs  astride  his  neck,  and  walked  as  rapidly  as  he 
could  away  from  the  town  and  camp.  An  idea  had 
come  to  him.  He  could  not  take  Cub  all  the  way 
back  to  Tennessee,  as  matters  were  at  present,  but 
he  was  within  reach  of  Roundstone.  He  would 
make  his  way  slowly  there,  and  leave  Cub  with 
Henry's  kinsfolks,  and  then  go  on  unhindered,  into 
Tennessee,  and  return  sometime,  —  he  no  longer  had 
the  heart  to  think  when  it  might  be,  when  Tennes- 


no  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

see  was  free  again,  —  and  take  Cub  home.  He  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  felt  guilty  over  his  desertion. 
To  him  it  seemed  that  the  army  had  deserted,  and 
that  he  was  still  in  the  fight.  He  felt  a  mingled 
sense  of  shame  and  sorrow ;  but  it  was  not  because 
he  felt  condemned  for  his  own  conduct. 

Jack  made  slow  progress  with  Cub,  who  some- 
times toddled  along  beside  him  and  then  had  to  be 
"  packed."  They  stopped  two  or  three  times  at 
houses  and  got  a  cup  of  milk  for  Cub,  but  the 
people  looked  so  curiously  at  Jack's  uniform  and  at 
Cub,  and  asked  so  many  questions,  —  kind  ones,  to 
be  sure,  for  they  were  almost  all  loyal  people,  but 
questions  that  he  did  not  like  to  meet,  —  that  he 
began  avoiding  the  houses  and  going  through  the 
woods  to  escape  them.  For,  proud  as  he  was  in 
having  a  greater  loyalty  than  the  army  which  had 
deserted  him,  he  began  to  find  that  he  could  take 
little  pleasure  in  having  it  known  that  he  had  run 
away  from  the  army.  Such  freaks  does  conscience 
play,  justifying  us  to  ourselves,  and  condemning  us 
when  we  stand  before  others ;  and  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  pleading  our  case  when  others  accuse 
us,  and 'unmercifully  chastising  us  when  it  has  us 
alone  at  its  mercy  ! 

It  took  him  two  long  days  to  walk  to  Tigertail, 
which  lies  across  the  mountain  from  Roundstone. 
During  those  two  days  he  struggled  with  his  own 
conflicting  feelings,  yet  ever  justified  himself  to  him- 
self, but  with  a  feeling  of  shame  for  the  army  which 
he  had  deserted. 

Little  Cub  grew  tired  and  often  pleaded  to  be 
allowed  to  stop,  but  Jack  pressed  on.     Now  and  then 


A  Loyal  Deserter  1 1 1 

he  sat  down  and  played  with  Cub  and  told  him  sto- 
ries to  rest  him  ;  and  once  a  day,  just  after  their 
noon  meal,  he  spread  out  his  blanket  for  a  couch 
and  let  Cub  take  a  nap.  On  the  second  night  they 
slept  on  a  thick  bed  of  autumn  leaves  under  the 
shadow  of  Torkletop  Mountain,  where  the  road 
winds  through  the  Oxyoke  Gap  between  Torkletop 
and  Baldy,  into  the  Roundstone  valley.  On  the 
morning  of  the  third  day  they  emptied  the  haver- 
sack and  climbed  the  winding  road,  and  soon  stood 
between  the  two  great  mountains  that  guard  the 
approach  to  the  valley,  and  looked  down  into  the 
oval  basin  of  the  Roundstone, 

Of  all  lovely  valleys,  Roundstone  is  the  most 
charming.  It  is  more  than  beautiful :  it  has  an 
influence  that  is  almost  magic.  The  people  of 
Roundstone  would  tell  you  so,  and  they  are  not 
given  to  sentiment.  They  would  not  know  how  to 
express  it,  but  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  the 
whole  community  felt  in  a  way  that  the  creek  was  a 
sort  of  mirror  of  the  life  of  the  Holler.  Not  a  few 
of  its  inhabitants  have  sat  by  one  of  the  numerous 
springs  which  are  its  source,  and  wondered  vaguely 
about  the  origin  of  life.  They  have  followed  its 
almost  aimless  wanderings  through  the  valley,  where 
it  runs  swift  and  shallow  over  the  stones,  and  still 
and  deep  beneath  the  overarching  beeches,  and  ques- 
tioned whether  the  meaning  of  life  is  to  be  found  in 
a  mere  search  for  the  level  which  it  finds  in  human 
relations.  And  they  have  stood  by  the  Sinks,  where 
the  stream  disappears,  and  wondered  what  follows 
when  life  seems  to  end,  and  what  is  the  mystery  of 
that   unexplored   cavern   into   which   its   waters  are 


112  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

ceaselessly  flowing,  and  where  and  what  is  the  land 
where  they  emerge  into  sunshine  again. 

No  one  ever  entered  Roundstone  through  Oxyoke 
Gap  without  feeling  something  of  the  spell  of  the 
valley,  which  locally  is  known  as  The  Holler. 
Jack  Casey  felt  it  as  he  entered  the  Gap  that 
autumn  morning  in  '6i. 

It  was  a  clear  November  day.  The  air  was  keen 
and  bracing  and  the  sun  was  warm.  It  seemed  like 
Indian  summer  in  the  valley  and  like  the  first  pinch 
of  winter  on  the  hills.  There  was  thin  ice  on  the 
surface  of  Roundstone  where  it  ran  still,  and  the 
frost  stayed  all  day  on  the  north  slope  of  the  moun- 
tains. There  had  been  no  recent  rain  and  no  snow 
in  the  valley  or  on  the  lower  hills,  but  Torkletop 
was  white  above  the  Gap,  and  Old  Baldy  stood  up, 
magnificent  in  his  antiquity,  and  lifted  his  hoary 
head  with  its  crown  of  glory  above  the  surrounding 
mountains,  and  extended  his  shadowy  sceptre  over 
the  valley,  of  which  he  had  been  for  unnumbered 
centuries  the  undisputed  monarch. 

Here  and  there  Jack  could  see  the  smoke  from  a 
cabin,  and  almost  directly  across  the  Holler,  a  little 
to  the  south,  stood  one  of  the  larger  houses  of  the 
settlement.  He  moved  down  toward  it,  passing 
other  houses,  at  which  he  inquired,  and  found  that 
the  house  which  he  had  seen  from  the  Gap  was  that 
of  Jacob  Hanson's  cousin,  John  Whitley.  The  sun 
was  at  its  height  as  he  crossed  the  foot-log  over 
Roundstone  and  entered  the  yard. 

A  bright-haired,  brown-eyed  girl  was  spinning 
in  the  porch  as  he  drew  near.  She  started  at 
sight    of    him    dressed    in    blue    and    carrying    a 


A  Loyal  Deserter  113 

gun,  but  invited  him  to  enter  the  porch  and  sit 
down. 

There  is  many  a  skilful  device  of  Cupid  to  set 
forth  the  charm  of  woman  in  the  sight  of  man, 
but  nothing  which  he  has  ever  done  can  compare 
with  that  which  he  accomplished  for  the  display  of 
a  woman's  grace  and  beauty  in  the  gentle  art  of  spin- 
ning. The  man  who  can  see  a  pretty  girl,  devoid 
of  self-consciousness,  and  with  the  freedom  of  a 
native  grace,  twirling  the  wheel  and  drawing  out 
the  thread,  steady  of  hand  and  keen  of  eye,  pois- 
ing while  it  twists,  advancing  while  it  winds,  and 
stepping  backward  while  she  draws  another  thread, 
—  the  man  who  can  see  all  this,  and  watch  the  dis- 
play of  every  curve  and  feature,  the  change  of  ex- 
pression in  face  and  eye,  the  poise  of  foot,  the  grace 
of  ankle  and  the  turn  of  hand,  and  not  fall  in  love 
at  first  sight,  is  either  hopelessly  in  love  already  or 
deserves  never  to  be.  And  if  Mr.  Andrew  Jackson 
Casey  had  not  already  been  in  love  with  her,  he  would 
have  begun  to  love  Jennie  Whitley  the  moment  he 
saw  her  in  the  porch  that  lovely  November  day. 

And,  if  there  be  a  thing  which  Cupid  loves  as  a 
snare  for  the  heart  of  a  woman,  it  is  a  military  uni- 
form and  the  bearing  of  a  soldier.  Jennie  Whitley, 
who  already  knew  and  respected  Jackson  Casey,  did 
not  regard  him  with  diminished  interest  when  she 
saw  him  before  her  dressed  as  a  soldier. 

"Howdy,"  she  said.  "I'm  right  glad  to  see 
you.     Come  into  the  porch  an'  se'  down." 

"  Thank  ye,"  said  Jack.    "  I'm  proud  to  see  you." 

"  You're  a  sojer  now,  be  you  ?  So's  my  three 
brothers." 


114  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  met  'em  in  Estill  an'  went  to 
Camp  Nelson  with  'em." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I'm  right  glad  to  hear  it.  Seen 
'em  lately  ?  " 

"  Not  sence  jes'  atter  the  Wild  Cat  fight.  You 
heerd  about  that  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Our  boys  was  in  it." 

"  Yes  ;  they  fit  well." 

"  An'  you  holped  whip  ZoUicofFer  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  mebby  I  holped  a  little  mite." 

"  What  little  boy's  that  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  He's  a  little  feller  we  fiaund.  Hank  an'  I  sorter 
took  him.  Hank's  gone  back  to  Tennessy  as  a 
messenger." 

"  Is  Hank  a  good  sojer?  " 

"  They  hain't  none  better.  He's  as  good's  they 
grow.     Where's  your  pa  ?  " 

"  He  went  to  the  store  for  the  news.  He  goes 
every  mail  day  now.  'Pears  like  he  can't  wait  for 
news  from  the  war." 

"  I  reckon  they's  a  heap  more  like  him  all  over 
Kaintuck  an'  East  Tennessy." 

"  You'll  stop  to  dinner.  Pa'll  be  here  right  soon. 
Won't  you  take  the  little  boy  to  the  spring  an' 
wash  his  face  an'  git  him  ready  for  dinner?  Or, 
hold  on  !  —  I'll  git  some  water." 

She  brought  him  water  and  a  clean  towel,  and 
Cub  submitted,  not  without  protest,  to  having  his 
face  and  hands  washed.  Then  Jack  washed  his 
own,  and  combed  his  hair  in  the  porch  before  a  small 
glass  which  Jennie  brought  him. 

"  I  hain't  shaved  sence  I  left  camp,"  said  he, 
viewing  his  face  in  the  glass  and  suddenly  conscious 


A  Loyal  Deserter  115 

of  a  desire  to  look  his  best.     "  D'ye  reckon  I  could 
have  some  hot  water  ?  " 

She  hastened  to  bring  it,  and  he  shaved  himself 
in  the  porch  while  she  went  to  the  kitchen,  where 
the  dinner  was  already  cooking. 

Jack  had  completed  his  toilet,  and  looked  and 
felt  "  better,  two  to  one,"  as  he  expressed  it,  when 
John  returned  from  the  store.  John  was  sorrowful 
and  angry.  He  had  heard  of  the  retreat  from 
London  and  the  sorrow  of  the  troops  at  the  retro- 
grade movement.  It  was  not  now  at  all  certain  that 
the  whole  mountain  region  would  not  be  overrun. 
Roundstone,  from  its  isolation,  was  relatively  se- 
cure, but  whatever  the  rebels  wanted  in  the  moun- 
tains was  now  at  their  disposal. 

He  quickened  his  steps  when  he  saw  a  soldier  in 
his  porch.  His  first  thought  was  that  it  might  be 
one  of  his  own  sons  returned  from  the  army. 

"  Howdy,  stranger,  an'  welcome  !     Sojer,  I  see." 
"  Yes.     Is  this  Mr.  Whitley  ?  " 
"  That's  my  name.     What's  your'n  ?  " 
"  Andrew  Jackson  Casey.     I'm  from  East  Ten- 
nessy.      I've   met  your  boys.       I'm  a  neighbor  of 
Jacob    Hanson,  an'    a   friend    of  his    boy    Henry. 
He's  a  sorter  cousin  o'  yours,  hain't  he?" 

"  Yes  ;  he's  fust  cousin.  His  mammy  an'  mine 
was  sisters.  I'm  right  glad  to  see  a  friend  o'  Jake's. 
Is  Jake  in  the  fight  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  couldn't  git  away  right  easy,  but  his 
boy  Hank  an'  I  slipped  through  the  Gap  an'  'listed 
together." 

"  I  wisht  you'd  a-brought  him  with  you.  I  hain't 
seed  him  sence  he  was  a  chap." 


ii6  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  He's  back  home  now,  detailed  for  messenger 
service." 

"  Be  you  on  messenger  service,  too  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Whitley,  I  hain't.  I  wanter  tell  you 
all  about  it.  I  was  in  the  Wild  Cat  fight.  I  was 
behind  the  fence  with  the  other  fellers  when  the 
rebs  come  up  the  hill,  the  front  row  with  their  hats 
on  their  bayonets  till  they  got  right  clost,  an'  then 
they  give  a  yell  like  all  git  out,  an'  come  a-tearin' 
up  the  slope.  We  fired  too  high  at  first,  them 
a-comin'  up  the  hill  an'  we  sorter  excited  like,  but 
we  didn't  run  an'  they  didn't  stop.  They  kep' 
a-comin'  an'  a-comin',  but  we  druv  them  back. 
Then  'long  early  in  the  evenin',  'bout  two  o'clock, 
they  started  fur  us  agin,  an'  agin  we  druv  them 
back.  We  had  kep'  the  top  o'  the  mountin,  an' 
we  went  over  an'  took  the  slope.  They  fit  hard, 
but  we  met  'em  face  to  face.  Their  guns  was 
mighty  pore  an'  so  was  our'n,  —  big,  loud  guns  that 
take  two  thimbles  full  o'  powder,  an'  a  load  big 
round  as  your  thumb,  —  there's  my  gun! — an' 
three  fingers  deep  in  the  bar'l,  an'  makes  a  noise 
when  they  go  off  loud  enough  to  wake  the  dead, 
and  kick  like  a  steer,  but  they  hain't  much  good, 
nohow.  But  we  clubbed  'em  back  with  the  breech. 
We  stobbed  'em  with  the  bayonet.  An'  finally  they 
jes'  hadter  run." 

"  I  heerd  about  it,"  said  John,  excitedly.  "  I 
heerd  how  you  alls  licked  'em.  But  what's  this 
about  retreatin'  ?  " 

"  I'm  plumb  shamefaced  to  tell  about  that.  They's 
some  mighty  quare  notions  gits  in  the  heads  o'  them 
officers.     Thomas   is   all   right,   an'    Garrard   is   all 


A  Loyal   Deserter  117 

right,  an'  Carter  is  a  hoss  !  But  Anderson  got  sick 
an'  had  to  git  out  o'  the  command  at  Louisville,  an' 
Buell,  they  say,  is  goin'  to  take  command;  but  he 
hain't  come  yit,  an'  while  they're  a-waitin',  they  give 
the  command  to  Sherman.  He  come  down  to  Camp 
Nelson  while  we  was  there  an'  made  a  long-winded 
speech  to  us.  Thomas  got  mad  an'  left  while  he 
was  a-talkin'.  When  he  got  done,  the  fellers  begun 
a-yellin'  fur  Thomas  to  speak,  but  he  swore  he 
wouldn't  do  it." 

"  Thomas  don't  make  no  speeches,  does  he  ?  " 
"  I  reckon  not,  but  he  kin  fight." 
"  How  did  the  sojers  like  goin'  back  ?  " 
"  They  hated  it  wus'n  pizen.     They  swore  they 
wouldn't  do  it,  an'  some  on  'em  didn't,  but  a  heap 
on  'em  did." 

"  Is  that  why  you  lef '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  jes'  a-goin'  to  tell  ye.  I  hate  like  sin 
to  tell  that  I  run  away  from  the  army,  but  it  was 
thisaway.  I  lef  ma  to  home  all  alone.  The  rebs 
is  rantankerous  all  around,  an'  I  had  to  hide  out  for 
three  weeks  afore  I  left.  I  sorter  had  an  /dy  that 
when  we  got  into  the  army,  we'd  come  marchin' 
back  through  the  Gap,  an'  give  the  rebels  Hail 
Columby.  I  hadn't  no  idy  we'd  enhsted  to  run. 
Well,  just  afore  we  got  the  order  to  go  back,  we'd 
got  news  from  Tennessy  about  the  Union  men  git- 
tin'  out  their  guns,  an'  the  women  a-makin'  flags,  an' 
all  a-gittin'  ready  to  welcome  us  an'  help  us  drive 
out  the  rebs,  an'  how  the  Union  men  had  burned 
the  bridges,  an'  we's  all  fired  up,  an'  ready  to  start, 
an'  then  come  this  news  that  Thomas  had  had  a 
fool  order  to  call  us  back.      I   thought  o'  mother. 


ii8  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

down  thar  alone.  I  thought  o'  Henry  an'  his  pa, 
that  had  a  sheer  in  the  bridge-burnin',  an'  like  as 
not  in  jail,  an'  goin'  to  be  hanged,  sure.  I  thought 
o'  leavin'  them  all  thar,  an'  runnin'  like  cowards 
when  we'd  jes'  licked,  an'  I  couldn't  stan'  it !  I 
jes'  packed  up,  an'  says  I,  'They  kin  go  back  ef 
they  wanter,  but  I'm  a-goin'  back  the  other  way. 
Ef  I  can't  fight  fur  East  Tennessy  in  the  army,  I'll 
go  back  an'  fight  thar  outen  it.'  " 

"  I  don'  blame  ye  a  mite  !  Nary  mite  !  "  cried 
John.     "  Did  ye  say  Jake  an'    Henry  is  in  jail  ?  " 

"  Not  as  I  knowed  on.  But  the  word  was  that 
they  had  a  sheer  in  the  burnin',  an'  the  rebs  was 
a-huntin'  on  'em  down." 

"  I'm  afeard  they'll  git  'em.      Looky  here." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  the  current  issue  of 
the  Memphis  Appeal^  and  pointed  to  an  ad- 
vertisement headed  "  Bloodhounds  Wanted," 
signed  by  two  Confederate  officers  at  Camp  Crin- 
forth.  The  advertisement  stated  that  the  hounds 
were  wanted  "  to  chase  the  infernal,  cowardly 
Lincoln  bushwhackers  in  East  Tennessee  and 
Kentucky." 

"  That  makes  my  blood  bile ! "  said  Whitley. 
"  Hain't  it  enough  for  them  dirty  slave-catchers  to 
hunt  niggers  with  hounds  ?  Hev  they  come  to 
that,  that  they  must  hunt  white  men,  too  ?  An'  is 
the  Gov'maint  at  Washington  goin'  to  stand  oiF  an' 
see  us  et  up  by  bloodhounds,  an'  call  back  their 
sojers  when  they're  winnin'  hand  over  fist  ?  I  don' 
blame  ye  a  mite  for  desertin'  !  Go  back  an'  fight  fur 
your  home  !  Go  back  an'  die  like  a  man,  defendin' 
your  old  mother,  ef  ye  hatter  die,  but  don't  leave 


A  Loyal   Deserter  119 

her  thar  alone  at  the  mercy  of  the  bloodhounds,  an' 
run  away  !  " 

"  That's  what  I  allow  to  do,"  said  Jack.  "  An' 
there's  somethin'  I'd  like  ter  ast  you  about.  Here's 
this  little  feller,  —  Cub,  we  call  him.  He's  a  mighty 
pert  little  feller.  He's  a  orphan,  and  we  got  him 
outen  a  burnin'  cabin,  whar  the  pappy  was  dead  an' 
the  rebs  had  murdered  his  mammy  an'  sot  the 
house  afire.  I  can't  travel  right  easy  an'  pack  him, 
an'  I  hain't  no  sorter  chance  to  keer  for  him  jes' 
now.  I  didn't  wanter  leave  him  with  the  army. 
The  fellers  would  a  liked  mighty  well  to  have  him, 
I  know,  but  he  sorter  belongs  to  me  and  Henry 
together,  I  wonder  ef  you  kin  keep  him  here  till 
the  war  is  over,  an'  I'll  come  an'  git  him,  ef  I  live." 

"We'll  sorter  hatter  talk  that  over  with  Jennie. 
She's  boss  inside  the  house.  She's  all  I  got  now. 
The  three  boys  has  all  gone  off,  an'  Jennie's  the 
only  one  that's  leP.  Her  ma  died  three  year  ago 
come  spring,  an'  she's  ben  my  housekeeper  ever 
sence.  She's  a-callin'  on  us  now  to  dinner.  Less 
go  in.  Yes,  we're  a-comin',  Jen  !  Here,  young 
feller,  come  to  yer  granpap.  Law,  hit  don'  seem 
but  yistiddy  I  had  shavers  o'  my  own  no  bigger'n 
him  !  An'  now  they're  all  growed  up  an'  gone  to 
the  war.  They  hain't  nothin'  grows  so  fast  as  chil- 
dern.  You'll  be  a  sojer,  too,  one  o'  these  days, 
won't  ye,  young  feller  ?  " 

"  I's  a  sojer  now  !  "  cried  Cub. 

"Shore  'nufF!  I  reckon  ye  be.  Wut  be  ye,  a 
cap'n  or   a  cun'l  ?  " 

"  He's  a  gin'ral,  you'd  think  to  hear  him  order 
the    fellers    'round.       Here,    Cub,   set    up    on    my 


I20  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

shoulder,  like  I  was  a  hoss,  an'  show  how  you 
give  orders  !  " 

Cub  mounted  Jack's  back  and  rode  up  and  down 
the  porch,  giving  orders  and  carrying  off  the  honors 
with  eclat^  while  John  applauded  and  Jennie  watched 
with  interest,  standing  in  the  doorway. 

"You  best  come  in  now,"  she  said;  "  yer  din- 
ner'll  be  gittin'  cold.  Here,  little  man,  you  take 
this  cheer  beside  yer  pa,  —  beside  Mr.  Casey." 

"  Here,  young  feller,"  said  Whitley,  "  you  git  up 
on  this  cheer !  I'll  turn  hit  'round,  so.  Now  you 
Stan'  up  on  the  cheer,  an'  hole  on  with  one  hand  to 
the  back,  an'  retch  with  the  t'other  fur  wut  ye 
want.  An'  ef  ye  don'  find  wut  ye  want  within 
retch,  jes'  ast  granpap,  an'  you'll  git  it." 

He  paused  a  moment,  hesitating  whether  to  in- 
vite Jack  to  ask  a  blessing.  His  blue  suit  gave 
him  a  dignity  that  made  it  seem  a  proper  thing ; 
but  he  remembered  his  youth,  and  asked  the  bless- 
ing himself. 

Cub  got  on  finely  at  the  table.  His  position  was 
that  which  had  been  approved  in  the  Holler  for 
long  generations.  High  chairs  are  unknown,  and 
the  rising  generation  stands  on  a  chair  at  table  and 
eats  with  one  hand,  while  holding  to  the  back  of  the 
chair  with  the  other. 

After  dinner,  Cub  took  his  daily  siesta,  while 
Jennie  washed  the  dishes,  and  he  was  still  asleep 
when  she  joined  her  father  and  Jack  in  the  porch. 

"  Leave  off  yer  spinnin'  fur  a  while,  Jennie,  an' 
fetch  a  cheer  an'  set  with  us.  We're  a-talkin' 
'bout  somethin'   you'll  want  a  finger  in." 

Jennie  brought  the  chair,  and  walked  with  it  past 


A  Loyal   Deserter  121 

Jack  and  her  father,  at  no  small  inconvenience,  and 
wholly  without  necessity,  as  it  seemed  to  Jack,  so  as 
to  sit  beside  her  father.  But  that  may  not  have 
indicated  that  she  would  not  have  been  glad  to  sit 
beside  Jack. 

"Jennie,  Mr.  Casey's  ben  a-tellin'  me  about  his 
plans  an'  what  he  intends  to  do.  He's  gotter  go 
back  inter  Tennessy,  an'  hit  tain't  sartin  how  things 
is  goin'  to  be  down  than  This  little  feller  is  a 
orfling  what  he  an'  Henry  picked  up  outen  a  burnin' 
cabin,  an'  they  'lowed  atween  'em  to  keep  him. 
But  he  cyan't  tote  him  down  to  Tennessy,  and  he 
wants  to  know  ef  we'll  sorter  look  atter  him  till  the 
war  is  over.  I  told  him  that  depends  on  you.  I 
hatter  do  jes'  what  you  say,  ye  know,  an'  some- 
times hatter  toe  the  crack  mighty  clost.  But  I 
'lowed  ef  you  didn't  see  no  objection,  we'd  mebby 
try  it.     That's  a  right  pert  little  chap." 

"  I  don't  see  no  reason  why  not,"  said  Jennie. 
"  He's  a  mighty  fine  little  feller." 

"  Right  smartly  so.  He's  a  major,  sure's  you're 
a  foot  high.  Ye  don't  reckon  you'd  have  no 
trouble  takin'  keer  on  him,  do  ye,  Jen  ?  " 

"  I  don't  guess  it  would  be  much  trouble,"  said 
Jennie ;  "  an'  I  git  right  lonesome  sometimes  when 
you're  gone,  now  the  boys  is  away." 

"  An'  I  git  sorter  lonesome  myself  thinkin'  on 
'em.  'Pears  lack  now  they're  gone,  I  think  on  'em 
more  as  they  was  when  they  was  little.  I  don't 
har'ly  seem  to  r&alize  that  they're  men.  I  reckon 
this  leetle  feller'd  be  comp'ny  fur  us  both.  All 
right,  Mr.  Casey,  we'll  keep  him!" 

"  Thank  ye,  Mr.  Whitley.     I  'lowed  you'd  do  it. 


122  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

Now  I'll  stay  over  night  ef  I  kin  an'  hev  a  leetle 
more  of  a  visit  with  Cub,  an'  then  I'll  sorter  slip 
off  'fore  sunup  in  the  mornin',  an'  you  kin  say 
good-by  to  him  fur  me  atter  I  gone,  so's  he  won't 
take  on,  an'  I'll  git  over  inter  Tennessy." 

It  seemed  a  short  afternoon  and  a  short  night. 
Jack  stole  a  little  chance  to  talk  with  Jennie  alone 
about  Cub,  enlarging  on  his  precocity,  which,  if  the 
regiment  was  at  all  to  be  believed,  was  phenomenal, 
and  tenderly  committing  him  to  her  care.  With 
the  sunrise  he  was  off.  John  Whitley  took  him  on 
his  way  as  far  as  the  salt  works  on  Goose  Creek, 
and  bade  him  an  affectionate  farewell. 

"  Good-bv,"  he  said.  "'Pears  lack  I'm  sendin' 
off  another  boy.  You  favor  my  boys  a  heap.  I'll 
look  out  for  Cub,  or  Jen  will.  Do  yer  duty,  an' 
God  bless  ye  !  " 


X 

Sunday  at  Sevierville 

IT  was  a  pleasant  November  Sunday  when  Par- 
son Brownlow  preached  at  Sevierville.  The 
news  of  his  appointment  had  spread  far  and 
wide,  and  would  have  drawn  a  large  congrega- 
tion at  any  time ;  but  just  now  it  was  a  matter 
of  especial  and  widespread  interest.  The  news  of 
the  bridge-burning,  which  had  occurred  on  the 
Friday  night  before,  was  widely  known,  and  added 
to  the  excitement.  Whether  Parson  Brownlow  had 
a  share  in  it  was  not  known  ;  but  many  had  read 
with  a  thrill  an  editorial  in  the  Whig^  remembered 
now  with  equal  clearness  by  his  friends  and  enemies, 
in  which  he  had  said, 

"  Let  the  railroads  on  which  Union  citizens  of 
East  Tennessee  are  conveyed  to  Montgomery  in 
irons  be  eternally  and  hopelessly  destroyed  !  Let 
the  property  of  the  men  concerned  be  consumed, 
and  let  their  lives  pay  the  forfeit,  and  the  names 
will  be  given  !  " 

With  Brownlow,  was  old  Parson  James  Cum- 
mings,  who  first  spoke.  He  was  eighty-five  years 
old  and  his  white  hair  hung  about  his  neck,  but  he 
was  erect  and  had  a  martial  bearing,  and  his  spirit 
was  strong  and  inflexible.      He  said : 

"  My  brethren  and  sisters,  my  sands  of  life  are 
nearly  run.     I  am  an  old  man,  and  my  sun  is  near 

1Z3 


124  ^  Hero  in  Homespun 

its  setting.  For  forty  years  I  have  been  a  preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  and  I  have  borne  among  you  an 
unblemished  reputation  for  honesty  and  for  sin- 
cerity. I  fought  in  two  campaigns  under  Andrew- 
Jackson  for  this  country,  —  for  the  whole  country, 
not  a  part  of  it,  —  and  I  was  a  major  in  the  War 
of  1 812.  I  have  defended  this  country  against  the 
British  and  against  the  savages.  I  have  lived  its 
entire  history.  I  was  born  in  the  year  that  our 
country  came  to  life.  I  want  to  live  to  see  it  re- 
united and  happy.  I  am  driven  from  my  home 
for  no  crime,  but  because  I  am  an  outspoken  friend 
of  the  Union.  I  do  not  falter.  I  do  not  fear.  I 
am  encouraged  to  firmness  when  I  look  back  to 
him,  against  whom  the  mob  cried,  '  Crucify  him  ! ' 
but  whose  power  was  righteousness,  and  who  came 
into  the  world  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth.  O 
brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord  !  Put  on  the  whole 
armor  of  God.  Take  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of 
Gideon,  and  be  ready  when  the  hour  shall  strike  to 
drive  from  your  midst  the  invader  and  the  spoiler ! 
And  pray  for  God's  blessing  on  our  hearts  and  our 
homes,  on  our  glorious  old  rock-ribbed  mountain 
loyalty,  and  on  what  is  to  be  our  fair  and  reunited 
country  !  " 

There  was  perfect  silence  in  the  great  congrega- 
tion gathered  from  a  radius  of  many  miles,  when 
Parson  Brownlow  rose  to  speak.  He  stood,  tall 
and  dark,  smooth  shaven,  and  with  shaggy  hair  and 
brows, and  began  to  speak  in  measured  tones  that  soon 
rose  in  their  key,  and  gathered  power  and  volume 
till  his  tempestuous  eloquence  swayed  the  audience 
as  a  field  of  corn  is  swayed  by  the  wind.      Said  he  : 


Sunday  at  Sevierville  125 

"  My  friends,  I  am  glad  to  be  here  and  speak  to 
you  to-day.  I  have  left  behind  me  my  home  and 
my  business,  and  am  a  fugitive  for  the  sake  of  my 
loyalty  to  our  common  country.  I  have  not  taken 
arms  against  the  Southern  Confederacy.  I  have 
committed  no  violence,  but  I  have  opposed  with 
voice  and  pen  the  infamy  of  this  treasonable  at- 
tempt to  break  up  this  country,  and  for  this  I  am 
driven  from  my  home. 

"  My  friends,  I  am  glad  to  speak  in  Sevierville. 
It  is  a  glorious  name.  It  brings  to  our  minds  the 
days  of  the  Revolution,  wherT  our  fathers  fought  and 
won  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain,  glorious  as  that 
of  Bunker  Hill,  the  clans  of  these  highlands  gather- 
ing each  under  its  own  chieftain  and  winning  a  glo- 
rious victory.  Among  the  leaders  that  day  who  were 
foremost  in  the  fight,  the  one  to  whose  genius  more 
than  to  that  of  any  other  man  the  honor  of  the  vic- 
tory belongs,  was  John  Sevier.  This  town  may  well 
be  proud  of  its  name. 

"  It  was  John  Sevier  who  laid  in  these  mountains 
the  foundations  of  this  glorious  old  commonwealth 
of  East  Tennessee.  For  we  are  a  commonwealth 
by  ourselves,  my  friends,  in  history,  in  politics, 
and  all  that  distinguishes  our  public  life.  There  is 
a  line  of  separation  that  runs  through  Tennessee 
from  north  to  south,  and  it  follows  the  line  of  these 
mountains.  It  is  in  East  Tennessee,  where  John 
Sevier  established  his  commonwealth,  which  he 
named  the  State  of  Franklin  in  honor  of  the 
man  who  drafted  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
that  those  principles  are  held  dearest.  That  State 
has  passed  into  oblivion  ;  but  the  principles  which 


126  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

it  honored  —  the  principles  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  the  principles  of  the  Revolution,  the 
principles  of  Benjamin  Franklin  and  of  John  Sevier 
—  abide  in  our  hearts  to  this  day. 

"  My  friends,  we  have  fallen  upon  an  evil  time. 
East  Tennessee  has  been  voted  out  of  the  Union 
against  her  will  and  against  her  protest.  Let  me 
remind  you  of  the  way  in  which  this  glorious  old 
commonwealth  has  been  voted  out  of  the  Union 
through  the  fraud  and  villany  of  the  Governor, 
Isham  G.  Harris."^  Mr.  Brownlow  pronounced 
the  name  so  as  to  bring  a  scornful  emphasis  upon 
the  "  sham,"  and  went  on  at  length  concerning  the 
elections  of  February  and  June. 

"  By  such  fraud  and  villany,"  he  went  on,  "  was 
this  State  carried  over  to  the  Confederacy,  and  East 
Tennessee  with  it,  though  even  in  that  election, 
with  thousands  of  illegal  votes,  with  hundreds  of 
timid  men  kept  from  the  polls.  East  Tennessee 
protested  against  separation  from  the  Union  by  a 
clear  majority  of  18,300!  Glorious  East  Tennes- 
see !  She  still  stands  unterrified  and  uncorrupted, 
five  to  one,  for  the   Union  and  the  flag ! 

"  Now,  my  friends,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  We  are 
taken  out  of  the  Union  against  our  voice  and  vote. 


1  Governor,  afterward  Senator,  Isham  G.  Harris,  died  in  July,  1897,  while 
this  chapter  was  in  the  hands  of  the  printer.  Extreme  as  were  the  measures 
by  which  he  carried  Tennessee  out  of  the  Union,  and  severe  as  were  Brownlow' s 
strictures  upon  him,  even  Brownlow  had  later  abundant  proof  of  his  honest)'. 
When  the  Union  forces  occupied  Nashville,  Harris  went  south  with  the  Confeder- 
ate army,  serving  on  the  staff  of  General  A.  S.  Johnston.  He  took  with  him  the 
State  school  fund,  amounting  to  half  a  million,  and  was  himself  counted  a  wealthy 
man.  He  returned  at  the  close  of  the  war,  when  Brownlow  was  Governor,  and, 
though  reduced  to  poverty  by  the  war,  had  preserved  the  school  fund  intact,  and 
turned  it  over  to  the  Brownlow  government. 


Sunday  at  Sevierville  127 

We  have  had  neither  part  nor  lot  in  this  infamy. 
We  have  seen  our  fields  plundered,  our  neighbors 
conscripted,  our  brothers  and  sons  driven  to  hiding 
in  the  woods,  our  polls  corrupted,  our  leaders  im- 
prisoned. Wrongs  less  wanton  and  outrageous 
precipitated  the  French  Revolution  !  Think  of  it ! 
Citizens  cast  into  dungeons  without  charges  of 
crimes  against  them,  and  without  the  formality  of 
trial  by  jury  !  Private  property  confiscated  at  the 
beck  of  those  in  power  !  The  press  humbled,  muz- 
zled, and  suppressed,  or  prostituted  to  serve  the 
ends  of  tyranny  !  The  crimes  of  Louis  XVI.  fell 
short  of  all  this,  and  yet  he  lost  his  head  !  The 
people  of  this  country,  down-trodden  and  oppressed, 
still  cherish  unshaken  the  spirit  of  their  illustrious 
forefathers,  —  of  Lee  and  Pickens  and  Sumter,  of 
Jasper  and  Sevier ! 

"  Friends,  I  may  never  speak  to  you  again. 
With  me,  life  has  lost  something  of  its  energy. 
I  have  passed  six  annual  posts  on  the  western  slope 
of  half  a  century.  Something  of  the  fire  of  youth 
is  exhausted.  I  have  a  bronchial  trouble  which  may 
not  long  endure  the  exposure  and  the  hardship  to 
which  I  am  now  subjected.  This  may  be  the  last 
time  my  voice  reaches  you  before  I  die,  —  perhaps 
upon  the  scaffold,  basely  charged  with  treason.  But 
if  I  were  standing  now  upon  the  gallows,  I  would 
speak  no  other  words  than  these,  bearing  my  testi- 
mony against  this  monstrous  rebellion,  and  calling 
upon  you  to  be  true  to  your  record,  to  your  an- 
cestry, to  your  country  and  your  God.  If  I  am 
charged,  as  I  have  often  been,  with  inciting  you  to 
insurrection,  I  reply  that  I  am  rather  inspiring  you 


128  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

to  deeds  of  patriotism.  If  I  could,  I  would  '  stir 
the  stones  of  Rome  to  rise  and  mutiny.'  If  I 
should  hold  my  peace  to-day,  these  rocks  upon 
your  loyal  mountains  would  cry  out  their  horror 
of  the  crimes  to  which  we  are  submitted  and  their 
call  to  resistance. 

"  The  Union  army  will  soon  be  here.  Be  ready 
to  meet  it.  Be  ready  with  your  weapons  and  your 
strong  right  arms.  Be  ready  with  your  flags  and 
your  loyal  voices.  And  when  the  boys  in  blue  come 
marching  through  Cumberland  Gap  and  through  the 
mountain  passes  to  your  own  fair  land,  from  every 
hearthstone  and  fireside,  from  every  schoolhouse 
and  from  every  church,  let  this  long  shout  go  up 
to  heaven.  East  Tennessee  has  been  loyal  to  the 
Union,  and  will  be,  now  and  evermore  !  " 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  address,  Brownlow 
drew  himself  to  the  full  height  of  his  six  feet.  His 
face  that  was  dark  and  hard  seemed  almost  trans- 
figured, and  his  voice  that  at  first  was  slow  and 
somewhat  broken  was  like  the  sound  of  thunder. 
It  was  Sunday,  and  a  religious  service,  but  a  long, 
loud  shout  arose  and  the  mountains  echoed  it  back 
again. 

As  Parson  Brownlow  ceased  speaking,  and  before 
Parson  W.  I.  Dowell,  who  was  to  have  followed, 
began,  there  was  a  commotion  in  the  back  part  of 
the  congregation.  A  woman,  who  had  been  riding 
hard,  entered  hastily,  and  called  for  Parson  Brownlow. 

"  Parson,"  she  said,  "  you  must  run  for  yer  life. 
The  cavalry  are  after  you.  They're  huntin'  ye 
with  orders  to  shoot  ye  without  mercy.  They 
know  you're  here.     Hurry!" 


Mrs.  Casey's  Warning  to  Parson   Brownlow.        Page  128. 


Sunday  at  Sevierville  129 

Having  delivered  her  message,  Elizabeth  hurried 
away.  She  went  to  her  horse,  and  was  mounting, 
when  the  people  came  to  her,  and  insisted  that  she 
should  rest  before  returning.  She  went  to  a  house, 
and  received  the  generous  hospitality  of  the  people. 
At  night  she  remounted  and  took  her  long  way  back 
to  her  home. 

Before  they  left,  both  Brownlow  and  Cummings 
denied  in  the  strongest  language  knowing  anything 
about  the  conspiracy  to  burn  the  bridges.  Brown- 
low  declared  that  the  false  charges  were  knowingly 
made  as  a  pretext  for  their  murder. 

"Let  them  kill  me,"  he  cried,  "and  this  noble 
old  man  of  God,  who  is  also  the  victim  of  their 
malice !  Let  them  shoot  us  down  like  dogs,  or 
hang  us  on  their  accursed  gallows  !  We  can  die,  if 
need  be  1  But  our  death  will  have  a  terrible  retri- 
bution. The  Union  soldiers  will  avenge  us  seven- 
fold. The  thousands  of  Union  men  in  East 
Tennessee,  devoted  to  principle  and  the  rights  of 
those  who  fall  at  the  hands  of  these  conspirators, 
will  avenge  their  death  !  Let  the  fires  be  rekindled 
on  the  Union  altars,  and  let  the  fire  of  the  Lord 
consume  these  conspirators  as  it  consumed  Nadab 
and  Abihu  for  presumption  less  sacrilegious  !  If  we 
are  incarcerated  at  Montgomery,  or  Tuscaloosa,  or 
murdered  for  love  of  the  Union,  then  let  our 
friends  and  the  friends  of  the  Union  take  vengeance 
upon  our  murderers  in  the  name  of  the  God  to 
whom  vengeance  belongeth  !  Let  it  be  done.  East 
Tennesseeans,  though  the  gates  of  hell  be  forced, 
and  the  heavens  be  made  to  fall  !  " 

Sevier  County  had  voted  on  the  question  of  sepa- 


130  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

ration  from  the  Union  in  the  preceding  June,  and 
against  a  scattering  vote  that  aggregated  60  for  dis- 
union, had  polled  1528  for  the  Union.  Brownlow 
knew  full  well  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  his 
friends.  He  received  the  most  abundant  evidence 
of  the  support  of  the  people  to  whom  he  spoke, 
and  was  hurried  away  with  Cummings  and  Dowell 
to  the  remotest  corner  of  the  county,  where  he 
hid  from  the  search  that  was  diligently  made  for 
him. 

Brownlow  had  other  and  later  warnings.  On 
Sunday  night,  William  Rule,i  a  printer  in  the  office 
of  the  Whig^  left  Knoxville  by  stealth,  and  rode,  at 
the  risk  of  his  life,  to  warn  Brownlow  to  escape. 
He  found  him  on  Monday,  safe  and  undismayed, 
in  Tuskaleechee  Cove,  in  the  Smoky  Mountains. 

Elizabeth  Casey  returned  to  her  home  on  Sunday 
night,  leaving  the  horse  at  Steph's  as  she  went. 

"  Git  home  an'  to  bed  to  wunct,"  said  Steph. 
"  The  rebs  is  all  round.  They've  caught  Haun. 
They  got  wind  o'  Hensie  an'  Fry.  Jake  an'  Hank 
has  run  to-wards  Sevier.  They  got  acrost  the  river 
somehow,"  —  Steph  coughed  a  little,  —  "I  dunno 
jes'  how.  But  they're  gone.  Hit's  lucky  they 
didn't  no  man  go  your  errand.  An'  you  bes'  be 
at  home  tendin'  to  yer  own  business  right  pert, 
if  they  call.  I'm  doin'  more'n  wut  a  rebel  sym- 
pathizer ort  to  do,  I'm  afeared,  but  I  got  too  tender 
a  conscience.  That's  the  cause  o'  the  mos'  o'  my 
shortcomin's.      Now,  you  git  home." 

1  Later  a  captain  in  the  Union  army,  and  now  editor  of  the  Knoxville  yournal, 
successor  of  the  IFbi^. 


XI 

Exile  and  Prison 

FAR  back  among  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains, 
close  to  the  line  that  separates  East  Tennessee 
from  North  Carolina,  is  Tuskaleechee  Cove. 
There,  in  a  deep  gorge  which  no  wheeled 
vehicle  had  ever  entered,  a  group  of  men  gathered 
about  a  fire  one  day  in  November,  in  1861. 

Jacob  Hanson  raked  the  ashes  from  the  top  of 
some  sweet  potatoes,  and  tested  them  with  a  wooden 
fork,  A  dozen  men  watched  the  operation  with 
interest. 

"  Done  ?  " 

"  Jes'  right." 

"  How's  the  meat  ? "  The  question  was  addressed 
to  a  member  of  the  legislature,  who  was  broiling  a 
piece  of  meat  hard  by. 

"  It'll  do,  I  reckon." 

"  It's  a  mighty  good  thing  we  got  that  bear,"  said 
Judge  Green.  "  They'd  have  had  a  hard  time 
getting  enough  provisions  from  Wear's  Cove  for  us, 
and  the  men  below,  too." 

"  He's  tasted  mighty  good,  I  know  that,"  replied 
Parson  Cummings. 

"  Parson,  ask  a  blessing." 

Parson  Brownlow  raised  his  hands,  and  gave 
thanks  for  the  bear  meat  and  sweet  potatoes  which 
constituted  their  meal. 

131 


132  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

There  were  a  dozen  or  more  of  them,  all  told, 
men  of  prominence,  for  the  most  part,  and  men 
exposed  to  special  danger,  either  from  outspoken 
patriotism,  or  from  some  overt  act  of  resistance  to 
the  Confederate  rule. 

"  This  is  getting  mighty  tedious,"  said  one.  "  I 
don't  like  hiding  out  here  like  a  pack  o'  ground- 
hogs, with  the  men  below  a-guarding  us  like  we 
was  prisoners.  I'd  like  to  muster  'em  all  into  a 
company,  and  go  and  meet  the   Union  army." 

"  The  Union  army  will  be  here  soon,"  said 
Brownlow.  "  We  shall  see  the  end  of  the  Con- 
federacy in  a  few  months.  I  expect  to  see  it  before 
I  am  a  year  older." 

"  A  year  !  We  can  never  stand  another  year  of 
this  !  " 

"  Oh,  we  won't  have  to  stand  it  a  year  !  It  may 
be  a  year  before  the  rebellion  is  fully  put  down ; 
but  East  Tennessee  will  be  liberated  in  a  few 
weeks." 

"  I  hope  so.  This  is  the  last  of  the  bear,  and  we 
may  not  get  another  right  off." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  can  get  a  coon  now  and  then  ;  and 
'possums  are  mighty  fat  just  now." 

"  We  won't  have  many  more  sweet  taters  to  eat 
with  'em." 

"  I'm  'fraid  your  right;  and  'possums  ain't  much 
good  without  sweet  taters.  Is  there  ary  sweet  tater 
left  in  them  ashes  ?  " 

"  Just  one  more.  Judge.  You  kin  divide  it  with 
the  parson  there." 

"  Thank  you.  Judge.  The  law  ought  to  divide 
with  the  Gospel." 


Exile  and  Prison 


^33 


"  Who  comes  yander  ?  " 

"  Somebody  in  blue.  They've  sent  him  up  from 
below  with  news,  I  reckon.  He  ain't  none  of  our 
men.     The  sojers  mus'  be  comin'  !  " 

"  Hit's  Jack  Casey,  as  I'm  a  livin'  man  !  "  cried 
Henry.     "Jack,  hallo  !      Hello,  Jack  !  " 

"  Hello,  Hank  !  "  called  Jack,  and  quickened  his 
ascent  of  the  rugged  and  uncertain  path  that  brought 
him  to  the  fastness. 

"  Hand  up  yer  gun.  Give  us  yer  hand  an'  I'll 
give  ye  a  lift." 

"  Take  the  gun.  I  don't  want  no  help.  I  kin 
git  up,"  and  Jack  came  clambering  up  the  rocks. 

"Ben  eatin',  hev  ye  ?      Got  anything  left  ?  " 

"  Mighty  little.      Hungry  ?  " 

"  Hungry  !  I  could  eat  a  horse  with  the  saddle 
on  ! 

"  We've  got  one  tater,  ef  the  parson  and  the  jedge 
will  give  it  up,  an'  thar's  a  little  of  the  bar  left  that 
Hank  killed  t'other  day.  Thar,  I  reckon  that'll 
keep  you  alive.  Now  tell  us  whar  you  come  from, 
an'  what's  the  news." 

"  Don't  ast  me  no  questions  till  I've  et  my  din- 
ner, an'  then  I'll  tell  ye." 

"  Wall,  swaller  yer  victuals  now  an'  chaw  'em 
atterwhile,  ef  you  expect  us  to  wait.  Fur  I  reckon 
we're  starvin'  for  news  'bout  as  much  as  you  be  for 
bar  meat." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Parson  Brownlow,  "  self- 
preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature.  We  don't 
want  you  to  starve  to  death,  but  we  want  you  to  tell 
us  right  off  about  the  army.  Where  is  it  ?  Has  it 
passed  the  Gap  ?     Has  it  entered  Knoxville  ?  " 


134  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

Jack  stopped  eating,  and  tried  several  times  be- 
fore he  could  swallow  the  bite  in  his  mouth. 

"  The  army  has  retreated,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Retreated ! "  every  voice  cried  out  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  I  hate  to  tell  it.  I'd  ruther  cut  off  my  right 
hand.  The  army  has  fell  back  to  Crab  Orchard  an' 
is  goin'  back  to  Camp  Nelson." 

"  Did  they  get  licked  ?  " 

"  Licked  ?  No  !  We  licked  'em  all  out  at  Wild 
Cat." 

"  We  know  about  Wild  Cat,"  said  Brownlow. 

"Yes,  don't  tell  'em  nothin'  'bout  Wild  Cat," 
said  Henry.  "  I've  told  them  all  about  that.  Tell 
us  what's  happened  sence." 

"  Gimme  a  drink  o'  water.  I  sorter  choked  on 
that  bar  meat,"  said  Jack.  "  I  hate  like  sin  to  hev 
to  tell  you.  But  we  got  to  London,  you  know,  an' 
had  some  men  out  as  far  as  Barboursville,  and  found 
the  way  clear  to  the  Cumberland  River.  We  was 
all  gittin'  ready  to  foller,  an'  feelin'  big  as  life,  an' 
sartin  sure  we'd  lick  him,  when  all  to  once  Cun'l 
Carter  called  us  up  an'  said  some  one  or  other  had 
told  Sherman  the  fool  yarn  that  Zollicoffer  was 
a-goin'  to  nunite  with  Johnston  over  to  Bowling 
Green,  and  push  between  Sherman  an'  Thomas,  an' 
capture  Lexington  an'  Frankfort,  an'  Sherman  had 
ordered  us  back." 

"  Back  where  ?  " 

"  Back  north  of  the  Kaintuck  River." 

"  An'  Thomas  done  it  ?  " 

"  He  hated  it  like  sin.  He  sent  back  to  Sher- 
man an'  told  him  it  was  a  lie,  that  the  rebs  wan't 


Exile  and  Prison  135 

a-comin'  in  between  'em,  but  a-movin'  away,  an'  he 
said  he'd  give  the  order,  but  he'd  tuck  pains  to 
send  the  message  by  a  officer  that  had  got  to  come 
right  back,  so's  to  sorter  give  Sherman  a  hint  to 
tell  him  to  countermand  the  order.  But  Sherman 
didn't,  an'   the  sojers  was  ordered  back." 

"  Did  they  go  ?  " 

"  Some  on  'em  did.  They  cussed  an'  cried  and 
begged  till  Carter  couldn't  stand  it,  but  it  wan't  no 
use.  They  just  hadter  go  or  desert.  I  deserted, 
an'  I  find  a  heap  more  did." 

"  You  did  wrong,  my  son,"  said  Parson  Brownlow. 
"  The  provocation  was  great,  and  you  meant  right, 
but  you  did  wrong  to  desert  the  flag." 

"  It  is  a  mysterious  dispensation  of  Providence. 
I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  Parson  Cummings. 

"  Providence  —  fiddlestick ! "  said  the  judge.  "  It's 
cowardice  or  treason  !  " 

"Young  man,  proceed,"  said  Brownlow. 

"  I  run  away.  I  hated  to  do  it,  an'  warn't  sure 
it  was  right,  but  I  reckoned  it  was.  I  tuck  Cub  to 
Roundstone,  Hank,  an'  found  your  kinfolks,  the 
Whitleys.  Ole  man  Whitley  said  they'd  keep  him, 
an'  his  daughter  Jennie  —  " 

"Omit  that  now,"  interrupted  Brownlow,  "and 
tell  us  what  you  learned  as  you  came.  How  do  the 
people  talk  ?  What  have  the  rebels  done  ?  How 
is  this  to  affect  our  future  ?  " 

"  I  got  home,  but  didn't  dast  to  stay.  Ma  was 
all  right,  but  Hank  and  his  pa  had  hadter  hide 
here.  Steph  Crowell  holped  me  right  smart  to  git 
off  unseen.  Your  folks  told  me  to  tell  you  howdy. 
Hank,  an'  your  pa,  too." 


136  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  What  did  you  hear  about  tlie  rebels  ?  "  asked 
the  judge. 

"  They're  gittin'  mighty  rantankerous  sence  they 
heerd  the  news.  They're  talkin'  big  about  what 
they'll  do  ef  they  ketch  Parson  Brownlow  an'  the 
men  that  burned  the  bridges.  They  say  the  Yanks 
don't  know  when  they  do  lick  ;  an'  when  they  do, 
they're  so  skeered,  they  run.  They're  huntin'  for 
you  alls.  I  heerd  said  they  knowed  you  was  in 
Tuskaleechee  Cove,  and  a  guard  o'  Union  men  in 
Wear's  Cove,  an'  they're  goin'  to  attack  us  to- 
morrow." 

"  To-morrow?  " 

"  Yes  ;  they're  on  the  way  now.  I  hurried  to  git 
word  to  ye." 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence.  Parson  Brown- 
low  opened  his  Bible  and  read  the  account  of  the 
humiliation  of  Israel  at  Ai.  His  voice  trembled; 
and  when  he  came  to  the  prayer  of  Joshua,  the  tears 
rolled  down  his  swarthy  cheeks  and  mingled  with 
those  of  a  dozen  brave  men. 

And  Joshua  rent  his  clothes,  and  fell  to  the  earth  upon 
his  face  before  the  ark  of  the  Lord  until  the  eventide,  he 
and  the  elders  of  Israel,  and  put  dust  upon  their  heads. 

And  Joshua  said,  Alas,  O  Lord  God,  wherefore  hast 
thou  at  all  brought  this  people  over  Jordan,  to  deliver  us 
into  the  hand  of  the  Amorites,  to  destroy  us  ?  would  to 
God  we  had  been  content,  and  dwelt  on  the  other  side 
Jordan  ! 

O  Lord,  what  shall  I  say,  when  Israel  turneth  their 
backs  before  their  enemies  ! 

For  the  Canaanites  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  land 
shall  hear  of  it,  and  shall  environ  us  round,  and  cut  oft  our 


Exile  and  Prison  137 

name  from  the  earth :    and  what  wilt   thou  do   unto  thy 
great  name  ? 

"  Let  us  pray,"  said  Brownlow. 

They  all  fell  upon  their  knees,  and  many  wept, 
as  the  strong  old  patriot,  with  sobs  and  tears,  poured 
out  his  soul  before  God. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  they  all  asked,  each  of  the 
rest,  when  the  prayer  was  ended. 

"  Let  us  stay  and  fight  them,"  said  Henry. 

"  There  couldn't  be  no  better  place,"  said  Jack. 
"  They  can't  git  at  us  from  but  one  way.  They 
can't  come  up  with  horses.  They  can't  fetch  no 
cannon.  They  just  gotter  come  up  a  few  at  a  time. 
We  kin  keep  'em  back." 

"  But  we'll  starve,"  said  the  judge. 

"  I  don't  see  why.  They's  game  enough,  an'  we 
kin  go  over  to  the  other  cove  to-night  an'  gether 
some  corn  an'  taters." 

"  There  seems  nothing  else  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Cum- 
mings  sadly.  "  I  have  long  since  beaten  my  swords 
into  ploughshares,  and  have  used  the  Sword  of  the 
Spirit,  which  is  the  word  of  God,  to  plough  the  soil 
of  men's  hearts  for  the  sowing  of  the  seed.  It  is 
hard  for  an  old  man  who  has  preached  the  Gospel 
of  peace  for  forty  years  to  be  driven  to  fight  with 
carnal  weapons,  but  I   see  no  other  way." 

"We  must  prepare  at  once,"  said  the  judge. 

"  It  won't  do,  friends,"  said  Brownlow.  "  If  the 
Federal  troops  were  really  coming,  or  even  holding 
their  own,  we  might  do  it.  I  shrink  from  blood- 
shed ;  and  though  I  am  called  the  Fighting  Parson, 
you  will  bear  me  record  that  I  am  a  man  of  peace. 


138  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

Yet  I  would  fight  if  there  were  any  use.  But  we 
could  not  hold  out  long.  If  the  rebels  are  not 
restrained  by  fear  of  the  Union  troops,  they  can 
bring  against  us  force  which  we  cannot  hopefully 
resist.  We  must  scatter,  and  at  once.  We  must 
go  forth  two  and  two,  or,  at  most,  in  groups  of 
three,  and  hide  where  best  we  may,  and  wait  for  the 
coming  of  the  Union  army." 

After  much  discussion,  this  plan  was  adopted. 
Jack  set  out  with  Henry  and  his  father.  Brownlow 
and  Dowell  set  out  at  nightfall  with  faces  toward 
Knoxville,  and  as  day  was  breaking  stopped  at 
the  house  of  a  friend,  six  miles  from  home,  and 
there  learning  that  General  Carroll,  whom  Brown- 
low  knew,  and  whom  he  believed  to  be  a  Union 
man  at  heart,  was  about  to  succeed  Wood  in  com- 
mand at  Knoxville,  he  sent  to  him  a  letter,  con- 
veyed by  his  friend,  Colonel  John  Williams,  asking 
to  be  allowed  to  return  to  his  home,  and  to  be 
assured  protection. 

General  Carroll  answered  this  letter  six  days 
afterward,  and  the  letter  reached  Brownlow  three 
days  later,  promising  him  protection  to  the  extent 
of  securing  for  him  a  fair  trial.  Brownlow  felt  the 
importance  of  proving  in  advance,  if  possible,  that 
he  had  not  been  concerned  in  the  bridge-burning, 
and  sent  his  affidavit,  with  those  of  Cummings  and 
Dowell,  that  none  of  them  had  known  in  advance 
of  the  plan  to  burn  the  bridges.  The  letter  was 
not  delivered,  as  the  messenger  who  conveyed  it 
received  other  word  on  his  arrival  at  Knoxville. 
Confederate  friends  of  Brownlow,  Mr.  Sumner 
and  others,  had  sought  from  Hon.  J.  P.  Benjamin, 


Exile  and  Prison  139 

Confederate  secretary  of  war,  a  safe  conduct  for 
Brownlow  out  of  the  Confederacy.  Secretary  Ben- 
jamin wrote  to  General  Crittenden,  who  had  recently 
assumed  command,  saying  that  he  was  unable  to 
give  a  formal  passport,  but  would  be  glad  to  know 
that  Brownlow  was  out  of  the  Confederacy,  rather 
than  a  disturbing  element  within  it.  On  receipt 
of  this,  General  Crittenden  wrote  to  Brownlow,  that 
by  calling  at  headquarters  within  twenty-four  hours, 
he  would  receive  a  passport  into  Kentucky,  and 
would  be  accompanied  thither  by  a  military  escort. 
Brownlow  eagerly  obeyed,  and  reported  at  headquar- 
ters in  Knoxville,  where  arrangements  were  made  for 
his  removal  two  days  later.  But  on  the  intervening 
day,  he  was  arrested  for  treason,  and  imprisoned. 

There  is  no  evidence  that  General  Crittenden  or 
Secretary  Benjamin  dealt  with  Brownlow  in  bad 
faith,  though  at  the  time  it  was  impossible  not  to 
believe  that  this  had  been  the  case.  Both  Benjamin 
and  Crittenden  appear  to  have  been  surprised  and 
grieved  at  the  act,  which  originated  with  the  Con- 
federate district  attorney.  But,  fair  or  foul,  he 
was  arrested,  bail  was  refused,  and  the  man  who 
had  returned  with  assurance  of  protection  and  safe 
removal  was  cast  into  prison. 

The  jail  in  Knoxville  was  crowded  full  on  the 
sixth  day  of  December,  1861.  One  hundred  and 
fifty  Union  men  were  there  confined,  too  thickly 
crowded  to  allow  all  to  sleep  at  once.  The  jail 
contained  no  article  of  furniture,  table,  or  bed,  or 
bench.  A  single  water  bucket  and  a  tin  cup  did 
service  all  around,  and  was  refilled  at  intervals  from 
a  dirty  hogshead  near  at  hand.     The  food  was  scanty 


140  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

and  of  poor  quality,  the  jailer  being,  as  is  often  the 
case  in  the  South,  the  proprietor  of  a  hotel,  and 
feeding  the  prisoners  largely  on  the  remains  from 
the  dinners  at  his  hostelry.  It  was  hard  lines  in  the 
jail  when  Boniface  had  an  unusual  run  of  custom  at 
his  other  boarding  house. 

The  guards  were  insolent,  profane,  and  obscene. 
Occasionally,  a  negro  was  placed  upon  guard ;  and 
his  delight  in  the  magnifying  of  his  office  was  almost 
intolerable,  partly  because  he  could  be  more  over- 
bearing than  any  white  man,  and  also  because  the 
prisoners,  while  few  of  them  owned  slaves,  agreed 
with  Parson  Brownlow  in  "  not  regarding  the  chief 
end  of  man  as  nigger." 

Most  of  the  prisoners  were  in  the  single  open 
room  ;  but  back  from  the  door  was  an  iron  cage, 
in  which  were  confined  men  charged  with  capital 
offences.  Of  these  there  were  four,  all  accused  of 
bridge-burning ;  and  the  negro  guard  stood  at  the 
outside  of  the  cage,  and  threw  bits  of  lead  and 
pebbles  through  the  bars  at  them,  and  called  them 
vile  names. 

The  short  December  day  was  drawing  toward  a 
close.  The  prisoners  were  glad  to  see  it  go,  yet 
looked  with  more  of  sorrow  to  the  night,  in  which 
the  floor  must  be  spaced  out  to  one  set  of  sleepers, 
who  were  to  be  wakened  when  the  night  was  half 
gone,  that  the  rest  might  lie  down.  There  was  a 
prospect,  so  they  heard,  that  a  large  number  were 
to  be  taken  south  in  a  few  days  to  be  imprisoned 
for  the  war.  They  all  dreaded  that  fate,  as  they 
did  the  hangman,  yet  longed  for  any  relief  from 
the  ills  which  they  were  suffering. 


Exile  and  Prison  141 

The  door  swung  open  and  another  prisoner  en- 
tered. He  was  tall  and  dark,  and  stood  erect, 
reaching  almost  to  the  low  ceiling.  Most  of  them 
recognized  him  at  once,  and  the  men  in  the  cage 
gave  a  sudden  cry, 

"  Parson  Brownlow  !  " 

The  parson  walked  to  the  cage,  straining  his  eyes 
to  look  into  the  shadow  within. 

"  What,  Hanson,  Jacob  Hanson  !  And  your 
son,  too  !  And  Jack  Casey  !  Ah,  friends,  I'm 
sorry  to  see  you  here  !  And  who  is  this  ?  Haun  ? 
Why,  yes,  I  remember  you.  C.  A.  Haun  ?  Cer- 
tainly, I  know  you.  And  you,  too,  are  charged 
with  bridge-burning  !  And  here  are  more  of  my 
friends,  all  about  me  here." 

"  We're  all  your  friends,  Parson,"  said  an  old 
man  at  his  elbow. 

"  What,  Tate,  you  old  Calvinist !  You  here  ! 
Ah,  yes,  I  know  !  You  cheered  the  flag  when  it 
passed  your  door !  Give  me  your  hand,  you  noble 
old  Baptist !  You  are  wrong  about  the  doctrine  of 
the  perseverance  of  the  saints,  but  you  have  the 
virtue.  And  here's  another  old  father  in  Israel, 
Parson  Post.  You  prayed  for  Lincoln  instead  of 
Jeff  Davis,  didn't  you  ?  I  heard  about  it.  I'm 
glad  to  be  with  you." 

"  We're  having  a  dreadful  time.  Parson,"  said 
one  of  the  old  men.  "  We  ain't  got  no  place  to  set 
down,  nor  nothin'  to  set  down  on.  We  can't  eat 
what  they  send  us  to  eat.  The  air  is  fit  to  smother 
us.  When  it's  cold  we  almost  freeze,  and  when 
it's  hot  we  nearly  die.  When  some  of  their  bru- 
tal  soldiers  get   drunk,  they  put  them  in   here  to 


142  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

sober  off,  and  they  curse  and  abuse  us  day  and 
night." 

Brownlow  heard  these  and  many  Hke  complaints. 
He  heard  sad  tales  of  friends  at  home,  of  unjust 
charges,  of  false  accusations,  and  of  harsh  treatment. 
At  length  he  quieted  them  all,  and  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  these  things  are  hard  to  bear,  but 
let  us  bear  the  yoke  patiently.  Don't  take  your 
confinement  so  much  to  heart.  Rather  glory  in  it, 
as  patriots,  devoted  to  your  country  and  your  prin- 
ciples. What  are  you  here  for  ?  Not  for  stealing ; 
not  for  counterfeiting ;  not  for  murder ;  but  for 
your  devotion  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  —  the  glori- 
ous old  banner  under  which  Washington  conquered, 
lived,  and  died  !  You  will  yet  enjoy  your  liberties, 
and  be  permitted  to  die  beneath  the  folds  of  the 
star-spangled  banner,  the  sacred  emblem  of  a  com- 
mon nationality  ! 

"  Be  of  good  cheer.  The  Federal  Government 
will  soon  crush  out  this  wicked  rebellion  and  liberate 
us,  if  we  are  not  brutally  murdered ;  and  if  we  are, 
we  die  in  a  good  cause.  I  am  here  with  you  to  share 
your  sorrows  and  sufferings,  and  here  I  intend  to 
stay  until  the  rebels  release  me,  or  execute  me :  or 
until  the  Federal  Government  comes  to  my  rescue. 
Do  not  be  cast  down.  Above  all,  don't  count  this 
a  disgrace.  I  regard  this  as  the  proudest  day  of  my 
life." 

It  would  be  cruel  to  dwell  upon  those  days.  It 
would  be  unjust  not  to  remember  that  some  of  the 
officers  sought  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  the  pris- 
oners, above  all  that  the  Confederate  surgeon.  Dr. 
Gray,  who   was   unfaiHng   in   his  attentions  to   the 


Exile  and  Prison  143 

prisoners,  secured  them  a  few  rude  comforts,  benches, 
a  table,  some  pallets  for  the  sick,  and  exercised  a 
humanity  which  the  prisoners  long  remembered. 
There  were  incidents  of  kindness  such  as  his,  which 
seemed  forever  like  the  spirit  of  the  Good  Samaritan. 
There  were  also  instances  of  abuses  too  sad  to 
recall ;  too  brutal  to  be  named. 

Southern  prisons  are  dreadful  places,  even  to  this 
day ;  and  that  at  Knoxville,  in  a  time  when  to 
ordinary  motives  for  ill  treatment  there  was  added 
that  of  political  hatred,  was  the  scene  of  some  gross 
indignities  inflicted  upon  men  whose  only  crime 
was  their  loyalty.  May  God  forgive  the  brutalities 
that  were  inflicted  by  both  armies  in  their  military 
prisons !  There  is  nothing  that  evokes  more  of 
the  fiend  in  a  brutal  man  than  to  place  him,  armed 
and  in  power,  over  men  against  whom  he  conceives 
himself  to  have  the  right  of  belligerent  hatred. 

One  of  the  things  for  which  the  prisoners  watched 
with  most  of  eagerness,  and  one  that  brought  them 
most  of  sadness,  was  the  news  that  came  to  them  by 
other  prisoners  who  were  constantly  arriving.  A 
new  group  from  Jefi^erson  County  came  one  day 
and  brought  news  of  the  capture  and  execution  of 
Hensie  and  Fry.  The  hearts  of  those  charged  with 
bridge-burning  fell,  and  they  sorrowfully  asked  for 
particulars. 

"  Hit  war  Cun'l  Leadbetter  hunted  on  'em  down," 
said  the  new  arrival. 

"  Who's  he  ?  "  asked  Henry.  "  I  never  heerd 
tell  o'  him," 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Brownlow.  "  He's  a  Maine 
man.     No    Southern    man    can   be   as   brutal   as   a 


144  -^  Hero  in   Homespun 

renegade  Northerner.  He  adds  to  the  passion  he 
has  learned  in  the  South  a  dehberation  and  calcu- 
lating cruelty  which  a  Southern  man  cannot  equal." 

"  He  tied  the  knot  with  his  own  hands,"  said 
the  new  prisoner.  "  He  had  'em  hung  so  near  the 
track  that  men  could  hit  the  bodies  with  canes  from 
the  keer  winders.  An'  he  ordered  the  bodies  to 
hang  four  days." 

"  The  bloody  scoundrel  ! "  cried  Brownlow. 
"  When  the  Federal  army  comes  into  East  Ten- 
nessee, that  infernal  murderer  shall  hang  from  the 
same  limb  !  " 

"  Hit  was  specially  hard  for  Fry,"  continued  the 
prisoner.  "  His  wife  come  an'  begged  to  see  him 
afore  he  was  hung,  but  —  " 

"  His  wife  ?  "  asked  Haun.  "  Dave  Fry  hain't 
got  no  wife." 

"  Hit  warn't  Dave  Fry,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  Fry  was  hit,  then  ?  " 

"  His  cousin  Bill." 

"  Lookyhere  !  "  cried  Jacob  Hanson.  "  You 
mean  to  say  hit  warn't  Dave   Fry  was  hung  ?  " 

"  I  tole  you  hit  war  his  cousin,"  replied  the 
prisoner. 

Jacob  started  to  speak,  but  Henry  checked  him. 

"  Look  out  what  you  say,  pa.  Ye  cyan't  do 
Bill  no  good  now,  and  hit  tain't  no  use  to  git  Dave 
inter  trouble." 

"  Be  careful,  too,  for  your  own  sake,"  said  Brown- 
low.  "  These  walls  have  ears.  Don't  confess  that 
you  know  too  much  about  it." 

There  was  an  awful  silence  throughout  the  jail 
for  a  full  minute.     The  men  in  the  cage  looked  at 


Exile  and  Prison  145 

each  other  until  they  all  grew  pale,  and  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  jail  their  faces  were  terrible  to  see. 
The  prisoners  gathered  about  the  cage  and  waited 
breathlessly. 

"  If  you  can  say  anything  without  danger  to 
yourself  or  others,"  said  Parson  Post,  "  we're  very 
anxious  to  hear.     Be  careful,  though.     Speak  low." 

Jacob  started  to  speak  several  times  before  he 
succeeded.     Then  he  said,  in  a  low  voice : 

"  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  say  who  was  thar,  or  who 
warn't.  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  confess  that  I  know 
nothin'  about  hit.  But  men,"  —  his  voice  sank  to  a 
whisper,  —  "  I'll  say  this  much.  As  true  as  God's 
in  heaven,  they've  hung  the  wrong  man  !  " 

Then  there  was  a  long  and  terrible  silence,  and 
the  men  in  the  jail  dared  hardly  to  speak,  or  even 
to  think.  As  they  thought  of  it  afterward,  there 
was  no  hour  of  their  sad  prison  life  that  seemed 
to  them  so  unutterably  dark  as  that  period  of  silence 
and  horror  that  followed  Jacob  Hanson's  declara- 
tion. 

The  next  day  forty  prisoners  were  marched  out 
and  taken  to  the  prison  at  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama, 
for  the  war.  It  was  a  sad  scene  when  they  departed 
to  that  almost  hopeless  incarceration,  but  it  left 
more  room.  Before  night,  however,  thirty-one 
other  prisoners  were  brought  in,  and  a  dozen 
drunken  soldiers  were  sent  in  for  the  night.  The 
latter  made  the  jail  a  howling  pandemonium.  In- 
deed, there  seemed  to  be  a  general  spree  among  the 
Confederate  soldiers,  and  drunken  men  were  placed 
on  guard  without.  Three  times  during  the  night 
a  drunken  soldier  thrust  his  gun  through  the  win- 


146  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

dow  of  the  jail  and  discharged  it,  by  accident,  he 
said. 

A  few  days  afterward,  Haun  was  taken  from  the 
jail  and  hanged.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty- 
seven,  and  left  a  young  wife  and  a  family  of  little 
ones.  Still  a  few  days  later,  they  took  Jacob  and 
Henry  Hanson,  and  hanged  them  on  the  same 
gallows. 

The  details  of  the  hanging,  the  prisoners  might 
never  have  known,  had  it  not  been  that  the  guards 
about  the  jail  brought  back  reports  of  the  execution, 
and  told  them,  with  every  evidence  of  delight,  to 
the  prisoners,  whom  they  constantly  threatened  with 
like  fate.  From  these  it  appeared  that  the  father 
was  compelled  to  witness  the  execution  of  his  son, 
before  he  was  hanged  himself.  Both  died  unmoved, 
declaring  their  loyalty  to  the  Union  and  the  prin- 
ciples for  which  they  had  suffered. 

There  was  more  hesitation  about  Jack  Casey. 
He  was  known  to  have  been  associated  with  the 
Hansons,  whose  guilt  was  clearly  proved.  The 
evidence  against  him  was  circumstantial,  but  strong. 
Against  it,  he  could  only  declare  that  at  the  time 
of  the  burning  he  had  been  in  the  Union  army. 
But  this,  if  it  proved  anything,  proved  him  to  have 
been  a  deserter ;  and  the  word  of  a  deserter  was 
trusted  little,  when  there  was  so  strong  a  motive  for 
his  lying.  Besides,  when  captured,  he  was  fleeing 
from  the  ofiicers,  in  company  with  the  Hansons, 
who  were  his  almost  certain  partners  in  the  crime. 
There  were  other  lines  of  evidence ;  and  one  man, 
whose  evidence  was  procured  through  Lieutenant 
Sam  Marshall,  broke  the  force  of  his  alibi  by  swear- 


Exile  and   Prison  147 

ing  that  he  had  seen  Casey  near  the  scene  of  the 
bridge-burning,  the  night  before  it  had  happened. 
The  mihtary  court  felt  the  necessity  of  taking  strong 
measures.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  convict 
these  men,  who  were  so  strongly  bound  together. 
It  was  worse  than  folly  to  turn  them  over  for  trial 
to  their  own  courts.  The  military  tribunals  had 
been  far  more  liberal  in  these  doubtful  cases  than 
their  instructions  would  have  warranted.  They 
sentenced  Casey  to  be  hanged. 

It  was  a  sad  mother  who  came  to  the  jail  to  see 
her  son  Jack  for  the  last  time.  She  had  ridden  all 
night,  on  horseback,  and  arrived  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. She  cast  herself  upon  her  son's  neck  and 
wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  could  give 
up  her  son  to  die  upon  the  field  of  battle,  but  to 
see  him  die  upon  the  scaffold,  and  for  an  offence  of 
which  he  was  innocent,  she  could  not  bear. 

"  My  God,  what  a  sight ! "  cried  Brownlow. 
"  May  these  eyes  of  mine,  that  have  seen  many 
sad  sights,  never  look  upon  one  like  this  again  !  " 

He  tried  to  think  of  some  way  to  prevent  this 
terrible  murder  of  an  innocent  man.  Could  noth- 
ing be  done? 

He  tore  from  his  note-book  a  leaf,  and  wrote 
upon  it  a  despatch  to  Jefferson  Davis.  Soon  the 
time  allowed  the  poor  woman  to  take  a  last  farewell 
of  her  son  expired,  and  they  led  her  from  the  cage, 
weeping  bitterly. 

"  Here,  madam,"  said  Brownlow ;  "  your  son 
must  not  die.  He  is  innocent.  Bad  as  this  re- 
bellion is,  Jefferson  Davis  does  not  wish  to  hang 
innocent  men.      It  is  too  late  to  establish  his  inno- 


148  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

cence,  but  we  may  appeal  to  the  pity  of  the  Presi- 
dent at  Richmond.  The  telegraph  office  is  near. 
Hasten  there  and  send  this  message  : 

"  '  Knoxville,  Dec.  27,  1861. 
"'Hon.  Jefferson  Davis:  —  My  only  son,  Andrew 
Jackson  Casey,  is  sentenced  to  hang  at  four  o'clock  this 
evening,  on  a  charge  of  bridge-burning.  As  he  remains 
my  earthly  all,  and  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  centre  in 
him,  I  implore  you  to  pardon  him. 

"'Elizabeth  Casey.'" 

Jefferson  Davis  had  a  tender  heart.  Like  the 
great-hearted  Lincoln,  he  more  than  once  took 
counsel  of  his  sympathies,  rather  than  his  judg- 
ment, preferring  to  err  on  the  side  of  mercy.  He 
saw  in  imagination  the  mother  and  the  doomed  son. 
He  pictured  to  himself  the  grief  of  the  aged  woman 
at  the  execution  of  her  only  boy.  His  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  I  cannot  decide  as  to  the  justice  of  the  sen- 
tence," said   he ;  "  but  I   will  save  his  life." 

Two  hours  before  the  execution  should  have  taken 
place,  the  jailer  entered  the  prison  with  Elizabeth 
Casey.     In  her  hand  was  a  slip  of  yellow  paper. 

"  I  am  to  release  you  from  the  cage,"  said  the 
jailer,  "  and  give  you  the  freedom  of  the  prison 
until  you  are  taken  south.  Your  sentence  is  com- 
muted to  imprisonment  during  the  war." 

The  mother  rushed  forward  to  meet  her  boy, 
and  with  a  cry  of  joy  fell  fainting  in  his  arms,  her 
hand  still  clutching  the  yellow  paper  which  bore 
the  news  from  Jefferson  Davis  that  her  son  was 
not  to  die. 


XII 

Jack's  First  Journey  by  Rail 

THE  month  of  December  was  almost  gone, 
and  with  it  the  year  1861.  The  hours 
dragged  heavily  in  the  Knoxville  jail.  The 
days  since  Christmas  had  been  dreary 
enough.  The  soldiers  were  unusually  bibulous, 
and  the  jail  was  never  free  from  the  presence  of 
some  who  were  sobering  off.  The  guards  were  just 
drunk  enough  to  be  ugly,  and  their  ill-treatment 
became  so  unendurable  that  one  of  them  was  dis- 
armed and  soundly  thrashed  by  a  prisoner  named 
Turner.  The  officers  were  probably  glad  of  the 
event  as  an  aid  to  discipline.  At  any  rate,  Turner 
received  no  punishment,  and  for  a  day  or  two  the 
prisoners  were  treated  with  a  little  less  of  inhuman- 
ity. Parson  Brownlow  watched  the  fight  with  the 
keenest  interest,  and  applauded  its  issue ;  and  even 
Jack  Casey,  who  was  then  in  the  cage  under  sen- 
tence of  death  next  day,  could  not  repress  his  joy. 
The  day  after  Jack's  reprieve,  occurred  one  of 
the  periodical  deportations  which  always  caused  a 
flutter  of  excitement.  No  one  knew  who  were  to 
be  sent  south  until  the  names  were  called.  The 
officer  who  on  this  day  had  charge  of  the  shipping 
of  prisoners  was  himself  a  trifle  the  worse  for 
his  Christmas  drinking,  and  in  no  very  amiable 
mood.     He    had    forgotten    his    list    of   prisoners, 

149 


150  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

too,  and  there  was  a  vexatious  delay  while  he  sent 
for  it. 

"  Come,  now.  More  lively  when  your  names 
are  called  !  We've  no  time  to  lose  !  Sick  ?  "  he 
demanded  of  one  old  man.  "  Git  up  here,  you  old 
liar  !     You'll  be  sicker  afore  you're  done  with  this  !  " 

Twenty-two  prisoners  were  called  off,  Jack  among 
the  rest.  They  were  marched  through  the  streets 
under  a  heavy  guard,  and  locked  into  a  box  car,  to 
be  sent  to  Tuscaloosa.  The  train  was  a  slow  one 
and  the  stops  were  frequent,  and  the  short  day  was 
at  its  close  when  it  entered  Chattanooga. 

Here  there  was  a  delay  ;  and  at  length  the  prison- 
ers were  ordered  out,  under  guard,  and  were  trans- 
ferred to  a  car  on  another  train.  They  eagerly 
looked  about  them,  as  they  passed  from  one  train 
to  the  other,  for  some  opportunity  to  escape,  but 
found  none. 

Jack's  eye  took  in  as  much  as  time  and  the  dark- 
ness would  permit  while  the  prisoners  were  being 
loaded  into  the  car.  There  were  several  cars  ahead, 
—  freight  cars,  and  one  or  two  flat  cars,  —  and  then 
came  the  freight  car  which  contained  the  prisoners. 
Back  of  this  was  the  caboose,  in  which  the  eight 
guards  and  the  trainmen  stayed.  Two  guards  were 
stationed  upon  the  top  of  the  prisoners'  car,  and 
were  relieved  at  intervals  of  two  or  three  hours. 
But  the  prisoners  had  judged  from  the  sound  of 
their  walking  upon  the  roof  that  the  guards  on  top 
did  not  regard  their  post  as  hazardous,  and  made 
occasional  excursions  to  the  caboose  to  warm  them- 
selves within  and  without,  leaving  only  one  man  on 
the  roof;  and  they  thought  there  had  been  one  or 


Jack's   First  Journey  by  Rail  151 

two  brief  intervals  during  the  day  in  which  all  the 
guards  had  been  in  the  caboose.  This  had  given 
them  little  comfort,  however;  for  these  times,  if  they 
occurred,  were  of  brief  duration  and  when  the  train 
was  in  motion,  and  they  were  securely  locked  in. 

The  car  was  locked.  The  last  breath  of  outside 
air  had  been  breathed.  The  last  chance  of  escape 
seemed  gone.  In  darkness  and  silence  the  prisoners 
huddled  inside  the  car.  An  hour  passed,  and  the 
train  was  slowly  creeping  south.  It  would  take 
them  all  night  to  ride  the  two  hundred  miles  to 
Tuscaloosa,  and  the  end  would  come  all  too  soon. 
Another  hour  passed.  Two  men  who  were  sick, 
one  with  rheumatism  and  the  other  with  dysentery, 
lay  in  the  corner  moaning,  one  with  pain  and  the 
other  with  cold.  The  others  began  to  rise  and 
move  about  the  car,  kicking  their  feet  against  the 
sides  to  warm  them. 

As  Jack  passed  about  the  car,  his  foot  struck  a 
loose  board  in  the  end  next  the  caboose.  The 
guards  had  not  noticed  it  in  the  dusk.  It  was  as 
if,  in  the  previous  loading  of  a  beam  of  timber,  or 
other  long  and  heavy  article,  the  end  of  the  car  had 
received  a  blow  that  started  the  nails  in  three  of  the 
narrow  matched  boards,  directly  under  the  small 
end  door  and  over  the  bumpers. 

Jack  dropped  on  his  knees  and  examined  the 
place.  The  nails  had  been  pushed  out  nearly  an 
inch,  and  might  easily  be  knocked  out  entirely. 
Could  an  opening  there  be  of  service  to  them  ? 
They  could  not  hope  to  escape  by  that  way,  and  at 
first  it  seemed  he  had  made  a  useless  discovery. 
He   called   a   council,   and    together    the    prisoners 


152  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

evolved  a  plan  which  had  in  it  some  promise  of 
success. 

The  night  was  raw,  and  the  guards  on  top  grew 
cold.  About  the  middle  of  the  second  watch,  the 
prisoners  were  rejoiced  to  hear  them  both,  as  they 
thought,  clamber  down  the  ladder  at  the  end  of  the 
car  and  enter  the  caboose. 

"  Now's  the  time,  boys  !  "  said  Jack,  and  gave 
the  loose  boards  a  vigorous  kick,  and  then  another, 
and  another. 

At  the  third  kick,  the  middle  board  gave  way. 
Jack  reached  out  for  the  coupling-pin.  They  were 
ascending  a  short  grade,  and  he  could  not  draw  it. 
Oh,  if  they  would  only  go  down  hill  for  a  moment ! 
The  ascent  seemed  miles  in  length.  The  guards  would 
surely  return.  The  cars  began  bumping  together. 
They  were  descending  a  slope.     Now  for  it ! 

"  Pull  the  furthest  pin.  Jack,  so's  we  kin  hev 
two  ! "  said  a  prisoner  at  his  ear.  Jack  reached, 
and  withdrew  the  farther  pin,  and  brought  it  inside ; 
then  pulled  back  the  boards  that  still  hung  by  the 
nails  at  the  top,  and  waited. 

They  began  to  go  up  hill  again.  Jack  peered 
out.  They  were  leaving  the  caboose  behind.  It 
had  stopped.  It  was  far  back.  They  rounded  a 
curve  and  left  it  out  of  sight. 

"  Glory  !  "  shouted  Jack. 

"  Whoop-ee  !  "  cried  the  prisoners. 

The  sick  men  moaned,  and  one  of  them  pleaded 
pitifully. 

"  Oh,  boys,  don't  leave  us  !  " 

"  Pull  in  the  other  pin  and  the  link,"  said  Jack's 
monitor. 


Jack's   First  Journey  by  Rail  153 

Jack  drew  the  other  pin,  and  reached  out  to  take 
the  hnk.  As  he  was  drawing  it  inside,  a  pair  of 
legs  came  down  the  end  of  the  car,  and  a  foot  swung 
uncertainly,  feehng  for  a  hold.  They  were  mistaken 
in  thinking  that  both  guards  were  in  the  caboose. 
Only  one  had  gone  within.  The  other,  seeing  that 
an  accident  had  occurred,  and  ignorant  of  the  cause, 
had  laid  his  gun  upon  the  roof  of  the  car,  and  was 
descending  to  investigate.  It  was  no  time  to  falter. 
The  soldier  was  standing  insecurely  on  the  bumper, 
and  holding  with  one  hand  to  the  brake-rod,  while 
with  the  other  he  felt  for  a  hold  on  the  small  end 
door.  Jack  stepped  back,  and  gave  a  short  run 
and  a  mighty  kick.  The  boards  burst  off,  and  they 
and  his  foot  struck  the  knee  of  the  unstable  guard. 
He  lost  his  footing  on  the  bumper  and  his  hold 
upon  the  door.  A  moment  he  held  with  one  hand 
to  the  brake ;  but  swung  round,  and  fell  heavily 
upon  the  track. 

The  other  prisoners  had  taken  the  two  heavy 
coupling-pins  and  the  link.  The  man  with  the 
link  was  busy  at  the  door  in  the  other  end,  and  two 
with  the  pins  were  at  one  of  the  side  doors.  The 
latter  first  effected  an  egress,  and  a  half  dozen  of 
the  most  reckless  jumped  out  in  the  dark,  with  the 
train  in  motion.  In  time,  the  end  door  gave  way, 
and  Jack  crawled  through  and  drew  the  pin.  The 
car  slacked  up,  and  soon  stopped  on  a  short  bridge. 
The  caboose  was  two  miles  behind,  and  the  train 
was  speeding  on  in  the  darkness.  One  of  the 
prisoners  climbed  to  the  top,  and  secured  the  gun 
of  the  soldier.  Others  armed  themselves  with  the 
coupling-pins,  and  all,  save  the  two  that  were  sick. 


154  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

scattered  into  the  woods, — some  to  be  recaptured, 
some  to  perish  in  the  wilderness,  and  some,  after 
untold  trials,  to  escape. 

When  Jack  crawled  out  of  the  window  to 
uncouple  the  car,  he  did  what  was  for  him  an 
unprecedented  thing.  He  had  never  ridden  before 
on  the  cars ;  and  to  climb  between  them  in  the 
night  seemed,  as  indeed  it  was,  a  perilous  venture. 
He  felt  for  something  to  hold  to,  found  the  brake- 
rod  of  the  car  ahead,  and  clung  to  it  with  one  hand, 
and  stood  with  a  foot  on  each  bumper,  while  he 
leaned  down  to  draw  the  pin. 

The  sweat  was  starting  from  him.  His  hand 
stuck  to  the  frosty  iron.  He  got  his  balance.  He 
found  the  pin.  He  waited  till  the  tension  lessened, 
and  drew  the  pin  and  handed  it  through  the  win- 
dow. Just  then  the  car  gave  a  jerk  as  the  train 
began  an  ascent,  and  he  saved  himself  from  falling 
by  holding  fast  to  the  brake  with  both  hands. 
When  he  regained  his  hold,  the  cars  had  separated, 
and  he  was  speeding  on  with  the  train. 

Jack  was  appalled  when  he  realized  his  situation. 
The  cutting-off  of  the  cars  would  soon  be  discov- 
ered, and  he  would  be  found  alone  of  all  the  prison- 
ers. He  crouched  down  upon  the  bumper  and 
thought  fast  how  he  could  make  the  best  of  his 
deplorable  condition.  He  could  not  get  into  the 
car.  The  end  door  was  locked.  He  might  have 
climbed  to  the  top,  but  was  not  sure  but  he  was 
safer  where  he  was.  If  he  could  be  sure  of  finding 
an  open  door,  and  could  enter  it  without  too  great 
danger,  he  would  prefer  to  climb  to  the  top  and 
explore  from  car  to  car.      But  if  he  did  not  succeed, 


Jack's   First  Journey  by  Rail  155 

his  danger  would  be  increased.  He  decided  to  stay 
where  he  was,  and,  if  discovered,  to  jump  off. 

He  was  fortunately  saved  from  any  rash  step,  and 
relieved  from  his  dilemma,  by  the  slacking  of  the 
train  as  it  approached  a  station.  Here,  as  it  later 
appeared,  they  were  to  meet  a  train  from  the  south, 
and  here,  he  knew,  they  must  discover  the  loss  of 
their  cars.  The  train  ran  upon  a  siding  and  slowed 
up.  As  the  rear  car  passed  the  switch,  a  lantern 
flashed  full  in  Jack's  face  ;  but  the  switchman  had 
turned  to  close  the  switch,  and  did  not  see  him. 
Jack  let  go  his  hold  and  quickly  ran  on  the  other 
side,  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  train,  until  he  came 
to  some  piles  of  railroad  ties,  and  hid  behind  them. 

He  watched  the  switchman's  light  as  he  followed 
the  train  to  where  it  had  stopped.  The  light 
stopped  at  the  end  car  and  then  went  hurrying 
down  the  track  to  the  engine.  Then  other  lights 
came  back.  There  were  excited  shouts  and  curses. 
The  train  from  the  south  came  in,  but  was  stopped 
and  held. 

Soon  the  engine  of  the  south-bound  train  cut  off 
and  ran  back  after  the  lost  cars,  the  tender  carrying 
two  men  from  the  north-bound  train  and  two  more 
hastily  picked  up  at  the  Httle  station. 

Jack  crept  under  his  own  train  to  the  side  of  the 
other.  He  had  ample  time,  and  felt  from  car  to 
car  for  an  open  door.  He  found  none.  It  was  a 
through-freight  train,  loaded  for  the  most  part  with 
cotton,  bound  for  Virginia.  He  stumbled  over  a 
pinch-bar  lying  beside  the  track.  It  was  a  heavy, 
clumsy  tool  for  any  other  than  its  proper  use,  but 
it  was  a  godsend  to  Jack.     Slipping  between  two 


156  A  Hero  in   Homespun         ' 

cars,  he  felt  for  the  hasp  and  padlock  that  secured 
the  end  door  of  one  of  them,  and,  using  his  bar  with 
vigor,  pried  off  the  staple  and  opened  the  door. 

The  inside  was  filled  with  cotton  bales.  There 
was  a  very  narrow  space  above  them  in  the  car. 
He  crawled  in  with  difficulty,  and  with  greater  diffi- 
culty turned  back  and  slid  the  door  shut.  He 
crawled  half  the  length  of  the  car,  and  found  in 
the  middle  a  narrow  space  that  had  not  been  filled, 
between  the  layers  of  bales  in  the  two  ends.  Here 
he  could  stand  erect,  and  find  elbow-room  and  a 
fighting  chance. 

He  began  to  take  courage.  His  situation  was 
not  hopeless.  If  he  could  remain  here  without 
detection,  he  might  hope  to  get  far  enough  from  the 
scene  of  escape  to  avoid  suspicion  when  he  should 
again  appear  among  men.  He  could  hardly  wait 
for  the  train  to  move.  The  trainmen  were  quite 
as  impatient  as  he.  His  heart  stood  still  as  he 
heard  them  pass  his  car  cursing.  But  it  was  the 
delay  that  vexed  their  righteous  souls.  They  cared 
little  about  the  prisoners,  but  only  wished  they  had 
been  in  Washington  —  or  some  worse  place  —  before 
they  had  caused  them  this  trouble.  For  the  men 
of  the  other  train  and  the  drunken,  faithless  guards 
they  had  anything  but  gentle  words. 

It  was  a  full  hour,  and  must  have  been  past  mid- 
night, when  the  noise  of  the  other  engine  was  heard. 
Without  waiting  to  make  inquiries,  the  north-bound 
train  took  on  its  two  employes,  and,  amid  a  volley 
of  curses,  started  on  its  way. 

They  made  few  stops  before  reaching  Chatta- 
nooga.    Jack   lay   down   on   the   best   bed   he  had 


Jack's  First  Journey  by  Rail  157 

enjoyed  for  weeks,  and  slept  soundly  until  awak- 
ened by  the  stopping  of  the  train.  There  was  a 
long  wait  and  a  deal  of  switching  then ;  but  at  last, 
soon  after  sunrise,  they  crossed  the  Tennessee  River 
and  were  on  their  way  again. 

Jack  determined  to  stay  where  he  was  as  long  as 
possible.  His  chances  were  improving  with  every 
mile.  He  must  get  through  the  Confederate  lines 
somehow,  but  he  could  not  be  in  any  worse  place 
than  he  had  been. 

They  passed  through  Knoxville  early  in  the  after- 
noon. Jack  feared  that  they  might  stop  and  leave 
him  there,  but  they  only  stopped  to  change  engines, 
and  moved  on.  Their  progress  was  slower  now, 
and  it  was  night  when  they  stopped  at  a  small  sta- 
tion near  the  Virginia  line. 

The  prisoners  had  had  two  days'  scanty  rations 
served  on  leaving  Knoxville.  Jack  had  had  some- 
thing to  eat  and  had  slept  a  part  of  the  day. 
Nightfall  found  him  somewhat  rested  and  ready 
for  adventure.  He  waited  an  hour  after  the  cars 
had  been  run  on  to  the  siding,  and,  satisfied  that 
they  were  at  their  journey's  end,  crawled  back 
along  the  cotton  bales,  slid  open  the  end  door, 
slipped  out  between  the  cars,  and,  shouldering  his 
bar,  escaped  to  the  woods  and  turned  his  face 
toward  the  north  star. 


XIII 

Jack's   Return  to  his   Regiment 

THERE  was  never  such  a  boy  as  Cub. 
Everybody  admitted  that.  And  it  was 
the  more  remarkable,  considering  how 
many  other  boys  he  resembled.  There 
was  not  a  soldier  in  Carter's  brigade  who  was  not  re- 
minded of  some  "  voung  un  "  whom  Cub  "  favored." 
There  was  not  a  fond  old  grandmother  in  Round- 
stone  Holler  who  was  not  given  to  tracing  resem- 
blances, and  who  did  not  give  especial  attention  to 
Cub.  Take  him  for  all  in  all,  if  the  concurrent 
testimony  of  those  who  knew  him  in  childhood  is 
to  be  believed,  we  shall  not  look  upon  his  like 
again.  This  is  true  also  of  a  large  number  of  other 
small  boys,  according  to  the  testimony  —  and  who 
would  dare  dispute  it  ?  —  of  parents  and  admiring 
friends.  Considering  how  many  interesting  babies 
there  are  in  the  world,  the  presence  in  life  of  so 
many  commonplace  grown  people  must  forever  re- 
main an  inscrutable  mystery.  But  Cub  belonged 
quite  out  of  the  ordinary  category,  and  even  moth- 
ers with  boys  of  their  own  sometimes  found  it  safe 
to  exclaim,  with  what  mental  reservations  it  is  not 
our  purpose  to  inquire,  — 

"  Sech  another  boy  !  " 

Cub's  first  Christmas  in  Roundstone  was  a  great 
event.     He  woke  betimes  and  climbed  out  of  bed, 

158 


Jack's   Return  to  his  Regiment  159 

and  ran  to  the  chimney-corner,  where  he  found  the 
most  wonderful  boy  doll,  dressed  all  in  blue  and 
with  a  soldier  cap.  His  eyes  and  nose  were  cun- 
ningly painted  on  his  white  cloth  face.  His  shoes 
were  of  the  same  material  as  his  clothes.  No 
purchased  toy  could  have  given  half  the  pleasure 
that  was  afforded  by  that  remarkable  specimen  of  the 
skill  of  Jennie.  It  was  his  only  present,  and  it  was 
enough.  Children  on  Roundstone  never  think  of 
receiving  more  than  one  present,  and  that  is  why 
they  so  enjoy  Christmas,  It  has  been  demonstrated 
that  the  joy  which  Christmas  brings  is  in  inverse 
ratio  with  the  number  of  presents  which  a  child  is 
accustomed  to  receive. 

Cub  marched  up  and  down  the  porch  all  Christ- 
mas day,  shouting  orders  to  his  soldier  doll,  and 
calling  "  Christmas  gift!"  —  which  is  the  Holler's 
equivalent  of  "  Merry  Christmas!"  —  to  all  pass- 
ers, and  now  and  then  shouting  for  the  Union  and 
the  flag,  and  hanging  Jeff  Davis  to  a  sour-apple 
tree. 

No  one  has  quite  the  same  appreciation  of  the 
Civil  War  as  one  who  lived  through  its  scenes  as  a 
boy,  and  whose  earliest  and  most  indelible  impres- 
sions are  associated  with  its  most  stirring  events. 
Cub  drew  in  the  military  spirit  with  the  air  he 
breathed,  and  when  he  was  told  that  if  he  cried 
at  having  his  face  washed  —  as,  being  a  boy,  he  did 
—  he  would  never  be  a  soldier,  he  made  his  best 
attempt  at  heroic  and  stoical  silence,  though  con- 
vinced that  no  soldier  could  have  so  severe  a  test 
of  courage. 

The    days    of  "  Christmas   week "  sped   rapidly. 


i6o  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

They  were  short,  dark  days,  and  nature  was  prepar- 
ing for  the  dismal  and  incessant  rain  which  fell  in 
January.  But  no  day  went  by  that  did  not  bring 
some  neighbor  with  news,  that  was  often  old  before 
it  reached  Roundstone.  There  was  likely  to  be 
trouble  over  near  Somerset,  and  there  was  hope 
that  Zollicoffer  would  be  driven  back  by  a  differ- 
ent route  from  the  Gap.  Thomas  was  massing  his 
forces,  and  had  ordered  the  scattered  detachments  of 
Carter's  brigade  to  be  ready  to  march  to  Somerset. 

On  New  Year's  Eve,  a  drizzling  rain  was  falling, 
and  the  air  had  that  creeping  chill  which  penetrates 
all  garments  and  coils  itself  next  the  skin,  like  a 
cold  and  slimy  serpent.  Cub  and  Jennie  were  in 
the  chimney-corner,  and  she  was  knitting  and  teach- 
ing; him  his  letters  out  of  Webster's  "  Old  Blue- 
Back  "  speller,  and  telling  him  the  wonderful  stories 
in  the  back  part,  which  in  Roundstone  Holler  is 
known  as  "the  grammar"  of  the  book,  —  about 
the  ox  that  was  gored,  and  the  dairymaid  who 
tripped  in  the  midst  of  her  day-dream,  and  the 
rude  boys  at  whom  the  farmer  threw  first  grass  and 
then  stones.  John  was  popping  corn  in  a  long- 
handled  skillet,  his  face  getting  red  as  the  coals  over 
which  he  held  it  as  he  bent  over  his  work.  The 
corn  was  popping  with  a  merry  rattle  against  the  tin 
cover,  when  there  came  a  faint  hallo  at  the  fence, 
and  the  dogs  began  to  bark.  John  was  too  intent 
upon  finishing  the  popping  of  his  corn  to  stop,  and 
Jennie  went  to  the  door. 

"  Come  back,  Tiger  !  Here,  Watch  !  "  she  said, 
and  the  dogs  came  to  her.     "  Hallo  !  "  she  called. 

"  Howdy  !  "     The  voice  was  faint,  and  she  heard 


Jack's  Return  to  his  Regiment  i6i 

the  wooden  latch  of  the  gate  cHck.  There  was 
something  in  the  voice  that  sent  the  blood  to  her 
cheeks.  Without  waiting  to  ask  who  was  there, 
she  called,  "  Come  up  to  the  house  !  " 

He  came,  reeling  up  from  the  fence,  and  caught 
at  the  porch  to  steady  himself.  He  stood  erect 
with  an  effort,  and  addressed  a  "good  evening"  to 
Jennie,  and,  as  she  stood  aside,  entered  the  house. 
A  moment  he  stood,  holding  to  the  door  for  sup- 
port, and  then,  on  first  feeling  of  the  warmth  of  the 
room,  dropped  fainting  upon  the  floor. 

"  Pa  !  "  cried  Jennie,  as  John  was  lifting  the  cover 
from  the  skillet.     "Quick!      It's  Mr.  Casey!" 

John  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  was  quickly  at  Jack's 
side.     He  was  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  cold. 

"  Git  the  whiskey  bottle,  Jennie  !  " 

Jack  was  soon  sitting  with  his  head  on  John's 
knee,  sipping  the  whiskey  and  hot  water  which 
Jennie  held  for  him. 

"  I'm  all  right  now,"  he  said.  "  I  was  tard,  an' 
a  leetle  mite  faint.  I  hain't  had  nothin'  to  eat  all 
day." 

"  Don't  talk  now.  Jen,  you  run  an'  git  Jack 
some  hot  milk  with  jes'  a  thimbleful  o'  corn  juice 
in  it,  an'  give  me  a  dry  shirt  fur  him,  an'  some  hot 
water  in  a  bucket  fur  his  feet,  an'  a  blanket  to  wrop 
him  in,  an'  a  dry  towel." 

Jennie  obeyed  these  commands  almost  simultane- 
ously, and  started  for  the  hot  milk,  while  John  was 
stripping  off  the  wet  clothes.  Cub  had  stood  in 
wonder  for  the  few  moments  that  had  been  con- 
sumed, but  now  he  rushed  to  Jack,  saying, 

"  Christmas  gift.  Jack  !      Don't  you  know  me  ?  " 


1 62  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Cub  !  Bless  yer  ole  heart !  I  seed  you  every 
minute  in  my  mind  while  I've  ben  a-tryin'  to  git 
hyur.  You  look  jes'  the  same,  but  it  seems  so 
long  sence  I've  ben  hyur,  an'  they's  so  many  things 
happened,  an'  I  feel  so  much  older  myself,  I  sorter 
had  an  z'dy  I'd  find  you  a  head  taller." 

John  rubbed  Jack  dry  with  the  towel,  and  brought 
a  glow  to  his  back  and  limbs  ;  and  placing  him  in  a 
chair  before  the  fire,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  with  his 
feet  in  the  bucket  of  hot  water,  gave  him  the  milk 
which  Jennie  brought. 

"  Now,  ye  kin  hev  that  an'  thet's  all  ye  kin 
hev  fur  now,  only  a  handful  of  this  popcorn  ye 
kin  hev  to  chaw  wile  you're  drinkin'  yer  milk.  In 
the  mornin'  ye  kin  hev  more.  Or  ef  ye  wake 
up  in  the  night,  ye  kin  mebby  hev  a  leetle  more. 
But  you're  mighty  nigh  starved  an'  sick,  an'  victuals 
is  too  scase  now  to  kill  a  man  with  'em." 

"  Pa,  don't !  "  said  Jennie.  "  We've  got  victuals 
enough  ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  we've  got  enough,  thank  the  Lord  ! 
But  we  hain't  got  none  to  waste  in  killin'  good 
men." 

"  I  reckon  he's  right,"  said  Jack  ;  "  but  some  more 
would  taste  mighty  good  !  " 

"  Well,  ye  kin  hev  'bout  half  a  glass  o'  milk  an' 
another  handful  o'  popcorn.  No,  take  hit  out  o' 
the  other  side  o'  the  pan.  That  got  burned  a  leetle 
mite.  I  want  ye  to  eat  the  best,  what  ye  do 
eat. 

"  He  kin  have  all  he  wants,  cyan't  he,  Jennie  ? " 
asked  Cub.  "  Nice  old  Jack  !  My  Jack  !  "  and  he 
fondled  Jack  as  if  he  were  a  big  dog. 


Jack's   Return  to  his   Regiment  163 

"  Wall,  Jack,  hit's  time  to  put  ye  to  bed.  I'm 
goin'  to  put  ye  right  here  in  my  bed  clost  to  the 
fire.      I'll  take  the  bed  in  the  other  corner." 

"  I'm  goin'  to  sleep  with  Jack,"  said  Cub. 

"  Ye  goin'  to  jilt  Jennie  ?  "  asked  John.  "  Thar, 
Jen,  yer  nose  is  broke  now.  Cub's  gin  ye  the  mit- 
ten, shore." 

"  I'd  sorter  like  to  have  him,"  said  Jack.  "  I 
hain't  had  nobody  nor  nothin'  that  was  my  own  for 
seems  lack  a  hundred  years." 

Jack  got  into  bed  with  a  hot  brick  at  his  feet,  and 
Cub  soon  came  down  with  Jennie,  dressed  in  his 
union  night-suit,  which  Jennie  had  made  for  him, 
and  looking  like  a  little  polar  bear  as  he  scampered 
about  the  room.  He  crept  in  beside  Jack,  and 
Jack  drew  him  close  to   himself,  and  said, — 

"  God  bless  ye.  Cub  !  Good  night.  Miss  Jennie. 
Good  night,  Mr.  Whitley.  This  hain't  much  like 
prison  !  " 

Jack  woke  in  the  night  and  drank  the  glass  of 
milk  that  had  been  left  for  him,  and  ate  another 
saucerful  of  the  popcorn,  which  latter,  however,  he 
found  himself  constrained  to  share  with  Cub,  who 
also  wakened  ;  and  in  the  morning  he  was  almost 
himself. 

"  No,  ye  hain't  nuther,"  said  Mr.  Whitley.  "  I 
reckon  I'm  the  boss  o'  my  own  house.  Ye  hain't 
nuther  a-goin'  to  git  up  an'  go  on.  Ye  gotter  lay  in 
bed  to-day,  an'  rest  an'  git  sorter  fatted  up,  an'  in 
'bout  a  week,  wen  the  rain  holds  up,  ye  kin  go 
back  to  the  army.  I  reckon  you're  right  'bout  hit 
bein'  a  mistake  to  leave,  but  I  sorter  gloried  in  yer 
spunk ! " 


164  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Happy  New  Year  !  "  cried  Cub,  waking  and  rub- 
bing his  eyes. 

"Ah,  tiiar,  ye  young  rascal!  Got  ahead  o'  yer 
ole  granpap  !  You'll  ketch  a  good  lickin'  fur  thet ! 
Now  see  ef  ye  don't !  " 

Cub  laughed  at  the  prospect  of  a  whipping  from 
"  granpap,"  and  Mr.  Whitley  took  him  by  the  feet, 
held  him  head  down.  Cub  screaming  with  delight,  and 
carried  him  to  his  own  bed,  where  he  tumbled  him 
over  and  over,  catching  him  by  the  heels  and  turning 
him  in  repeated  somersets  on  the  bed,  and  demand- 
ing each  time  he  turned  him  over  whether  he  now 
intended  to  be  a  good  boy,  and  Cub  calling  each  time, 

"  No  !     No  !     I  won't  be  dood  !      Do  it  aden  !  " 

Jack  rose  on  his  elbow  and  watched  the  sport  with 
eager  eyes.  Then  he  sank  back  in  the  bed,  finding 
himself  weaker  than  he  had  thought,  and  closed  his 
eyes  with  a  sense  of  restful  gratitude. 

Breakfast  came  soon,  and  none  too  soon  for  Jack, 
but  he  was  restricted  in  the  amount  of  his  food  by 
John  Whitley,  who  insisted  that  times  were  too  hard 
to  kill  good  men  by  overfeeding  them.  But  at  din- 
ner he  took  a  little  more,  and  at  night  ate  as  much 
as  he  wished  of  popcorn  and  milk.  And  that  was 
the  way  that  Jack  celebrated  the  New  Year  of  1862. 

Next  day  he  was  up  and  about,  but  was  glad  at 
times  to  lie  down  again.  John  hailed  Dr.  Culvert 
as  he  passed,  and  had  him  look  at  Jack.  But  he  only 
said  that  Jack  was  doing  well,  though  he  had  "grazed 
a  spell  o'  fever  mighty  clost." 

"  I'd  give  him  a  dose  o'  quinine,"  he  said,  "  jes' 
fur  good  luck,  ef  'twarn't  that  quinine's  gittin'  so  scase 
an'  high.      Hit's  about  impossible  to  git,  and  they's 


Jack's   Return   to  his   Regiment  165 

a  heap  a-needin'  on  it.  I  look  at  a  feller's  tongue 
an'  feel  his  pulse  twict  afore  puttin'  my  knife  blade 
inter  my  quinine  bottle,  these  days." 

He  forbade  Jack's  rejoining  the  army  for  a  week  at 
least,  and  that  was  a  comfort  to  Jack,  who  proceeded 
to  settle  down  for  a  week's  visit  with  a  clear  con- 
science. He  felt  comparatively  secure  about  his 
mother,  from  whom  he  had  learned,  when  he  saw  her 
last  in  jail,  that  while  the  Union  men  about  his  home 
were  suffering  quite  as  much  as  ever,  the  withdrawal 
of  troops  into  Kentucky  had  reduced  somewhat  the 
plundering  of  homes  and  the  danger  to  the  women 
so  remote  from  the  towns  as  his  mother. 

That  week  was  an  oasis  in  the  memory  of  both 
Jack  and  Jennie.  They  already  counted  themselves 
old  friends,  and  were  strongly  drawn  together  by 
their  mutual  interest  in  Cub.  No  words  of  love 
passed  between  them,  but  their  friendship  ripened 
into  warm  affection. 

It  rained  all  that  week,  and  was  still  raining  when 
the  week  expired.  John  insisted  that  he  should  not 
start  in  the  rain,  but  Jack  declared  that  he  would 
not  wait  a  day  beyond  the  doctor's  orders.  So  John 
called  in  the  doctor  again,  who  said  that  Jack  was 
well,  but  that  it  was  resky  to  start  in  sech  a  rain, 
and  that  he  had  best  stop  over  Sunday  and  see  ef 
it  didn't  hold  up.  Sunday  was  three  days  distant, 
and  Jack  stopped  with  mingled  satisfaction  and  im- 
patience, but  declared  that  he  would  start  Monday 
at  sunup,  if  it  rained  pitchforks  and  red-hot  cannon 
balls. 

"  Ye  shan't  start  off  alone,"  said  John.  "  I'll  take 
ye  a  step  on  yer  way." 


1 66  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

So  Monday  morning  they  mounted  their  horses, 
and  started  through  swollen  branches  and  over  roads 
that  were  badly  washed  out  for  Somerset  and  the 
Union  camp.  They  rode  hard  that  day,  and  stopped 
over  night  at  Barboursville.  The  next  night  they 
were  across  the  Cumberland  from  Williamsburg. 
The  river  was  past  fording,  and  they  had  some 
difficulty  in  finding  a  ferry.  But  at  length  a  man 
was  found  with  a  crazy  old  skiff  who  set  Jack  over 
for  a  half  dollar  in  paper  money,  which  sum,  together 
with  another  dollar  for  emergencies,  John  Whitley 
provided. 

Jack  pressed  his  hand  as  they  stood  on  the  bank 
together,  and  John  started  back  to  where  he  was 
acquainted  and  could  get  a  lodging  a  mile  back. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Whitley,"  said  he.  "You've 
been  like  a  father  to  me." 

"  Sorter  gittin'  ready  to  be,"  said  John,  dryly. 

That  was  the  sort  of  remark  that  passed,  and  still 
passes,  for  a  joke  on  Roundstone,  and  had  the 
added  value  of  conveying  parental  permission,  which 
was  always  deemed  desirable,  but  to  be  sought  by 
indirect  approaches,  and  granted  without  definitely 
saying  so.  To  mention  the  matter  of  Jack's  inter- 
est in  Jennie  in  so  many  words  would  have  been 
presumptuous  in  Jack  and  quite  indelicate  in  John. 
When  this  explanation  is  made,  it  will  be  seen  that 
John's  dry  joke  combined  a  good  many  admirable 
features.  He  chuckled  over  his  skill  in  saying  it, 
for  indeed  it  was  necessary  that  something  should 
be  said,  and  it  was  his  last  chance.  He  repeated  to 
himself  the  remark,  and  that  of  Jack,  to  which  it  was 
a  reply,  half  the   long  way  home.      He  found  an 


Jack's   Return  to  his   Regiment  167 

opportunity  to  repeat  it  to  Jennie  soon  after  he  had 
put  out  the  horses.  He  told  it  to  her  as  he  was 
pulUng  on  his  dry  woollen  stockings  in  the  chimney- 
corner  and  while  she  was  getting  him  something  warm 
to  eat.  He  told  it  with  a  grave  face  ;  but  when  he 
saw  that  Jennie  blushed,  he  laughed.  When  Cub 
asked  him  what  he  was  laughing  at,  he  laughed 
louder,  and  said,  as  he  drew  up  to  the  table,  strok- 
ing Cub's  hair, 

"  You'll  know  sometime.  Cub,"  and  then  he 
laughed  again.      For  that  also  was  a  joke. 

Jack  found  a  detachment  of  soldiers  at  Williams- 
burg and  spent  the  night  with  them.  He  had  been 
sick,  he  said,  and  had  been  away  from  his  regiment. 
They  took  him  into  their  barracks,  and  he  spent  a 
comfortable  night.  The  next  day  a  guard  was  to 
leave  for  Somerset  with  a  wagon  train,  and  he  ac- 
companied it.  It  had  begun  to  rain  again,  and  the 
mud  was  fathomless.  They  were  three  long  days 
on  the  way,  and  every  night  they  were  wet  to  the 
skin.  It  was  late  Friday  night  when  they  arrived, 
and  on  Saturday  Jack  reported  to  his  regiment.  It 
was  hard  lines,  but  the  things  which  cheered  him 
most  were  the  thought  that  he  was  going  back  to 
fight  for  the  Union,  and  the  memory  of  John  Whit- 
ley's joke. 

Jack  had  once  or  twice  had  misgivings  about  his 
welcome,  but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  reception 
which  awaited  him.  Among  the  officers  of  his  regi- 
ment (and  the  officer  of  the  day,  as  it  happened,  that 
day)  was  a  pompous,  rather  corpulent,  West  Point 
graduate,  who  had  recently  been  sent  to  them,  and 
whose  soul  was  vexed,  as  indeed  it  had  reason  to 


1 68  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

be,  with  the  lack  of  discipline  among  the  East 
Tennessee  soldiers  and  their  readiness  to  drop  out 
of  service  when,  in  their  judgment,  the  army  had 
ceased  to  serve  its  proper  ends.  It  was  unusual  to 
capture  a  deserter  among  them,  and  when  one  was 
found,  he  argued,  an  example  should  be  made  of  him. 
He  insisted  that  Jack  should  be  court-martialled. 

Then  it  was  that  Jack  stood  up  in  his  boots  and 
delivered  himself  of  an  oration. 

"  1  hain't  a-sayin'  that  it  hain't  law,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  say  afore  God  and  men  that  it  hain't  right.  I  fit 
like  a  sojer  when  they  was  fightin'  to  do,  an'  I  only 
run  away  when  the  army  quit  fightin'  an'  went  to 
runnin',  I've  ben  in  prison  an'  under  the  gallows 
fur  the  sake  o'  the  Union.  I've  ben  shot  at  an' 
sick  an'  starved  fur  the  ole  flag.  I've  ben  sent 
south  to  die  in  a  rebel  prison  pen.  I've  gone 
through  fire  an'  water  to  git  back.  An'  I  hain't 
a-goin'  to  be  shot  now  by  the  side  I  come  to  fight 
fur.  I'm  willin'  to  die  fur  the  Union  ef  I  must,  but 
it  hain't  no  Yankee  bullet  that's  goin'  to  kill  me. 
I'll  appeal  to  Abe  Lincoln.  He's  a  mountain  boy, 
an'  has  got  wild-hog  sense,  ef  he  is  Pres'daint.  I'll 
appeal  to  Cun'l  Carter.  I'm  willin'  to  admit  that 
I'm  a  returnin'  prodigal,  an'  I  hain't  astin'  to  hev  no 
fatted  calf  killed.  But  I'll  be  hanged  ef  it's  Scripter 
to  kill  the  prodigal  to  feed  the  fatted  calf" 

Jack  had  no  idea  of  being  personal  in  his  last  allu- 
sion. He  could  not  see  what  the  officers  laughed  at, 
nor  why  the  officer  of  the  day  colored.  Just  what 
would  have  happened  is  not  certain,  had  not  General 
Carter,  who  by  this  time  was  a  brigadier,  entered 
headquarters. 


Jack's   Return  to  his   Regiment  169 

"  General,"  said  one  of  tlie  officers  to  whom 
Carter  turned  with  a  look  that  was  a  question  as 
to  the  cause  of  the  immoderate  laughter,  "  this  man 
appeals  to  you." 

"  He  is  a  deserter,"  said  the  officer  of  the  day, 
—  "a  deserter,  who  has  just  been  recaptured,  and 
should  be  court-martialled.  He  is  an  insolent  fel- 
low, beside." 

General  Carter  took  a  seat  and  turned  to  Jack. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself? " 

"  Cun'l  Carter,  excuse  me,  Gin'ral,"  said  Jack, 
"  I  don't  know  what  these  officers  is  a-laughin'  at. 
But  I  jes'  wanter  tell  you  how  it  is.  I  know  you, 
Gin'ral  Carter,  but  I  don't  guess  you  remember 
me.  I  fit  under  you  at  Wild  Cat.  I  never  runned 
away  from  the  enemy,  an'  I  didn't  run  away  from 
the  army  till  the  army  turned  back  at  London. 
Then  I  was  plumb  catawampus.  I  was  plumb 
ashamed  to  run.  I  had  lef  my  ole  mother  all 
alone  in  Tennessy,  a-watchin'  fur  us  to  come  through 
the  Gap,  an'  drive  off  the  rebs.  An'  when  we 
was  ordered  back,  jes'  'peared  lack  I  couldn't  stan' 
it.  I  jes'  got  up  an'  skedaddled.  I  got  home,  but  I 
couldn't  stay  there,  an'  I  went  to  hidin'  out  along  o' 
Parson  Brownlow  an'  some  o'  the  men  that  burned 
the  bridges,  an'  the  rebs  broke  up  our  camp,  an' 
captured  a  heap  o'  the  men,  me  an'  two  of  my 
friends  amongst  the  rest. 

"  They  tuck  us  to  Knoxville,  an'  treated  us  lack 
beastis,  an'  they  tuck  my  friends  out  an'  hung  'em. 
They  sentenced  me  ter  hang,  too,  but  Jeff  Davis 
tuck  pity  on  my  mother  an'  let  me  off,  an'  they 
sont   me   ter  go  ter  Tuscaloosa.      I   got  away,  and 


ijo  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

started  back  to  the  army.  I  got  wet  an'  mighty 
nigh  starved,  an'  was  tuck  sick  an'  had  to  stop  on 
the  way.  The  day  the  doctor  said  I  mought  come 
back,  I  kim.  I  'lowed  I'd  mebby  be  called  up  to 
tell  why  I  didn't  stick  by  the  army,  but  I  hadn't 
no  /dy  they'd  talk  about  cote-marshallin'  me.  An' 
when  I  got  back,  atter  all  I  done  went  through,  an' 
the  officer  o'  the  day  said  I'd  gotter  be  cote-mar- 
shalled, I  jes'  tole  him  I'd  went  through  fire  an' 
water  to  git  back,  an'  I'd  ben  shot  at  an'  sick  and 
starved  an'  mighty  nigh  hung  fur  the  Union,  an'  I 
wasn't  a-goin'  to  be  shot  by  my  friends  ef  I  cud  help 
it.  That's  all.  I  warn't  sassy  to  him.  But  Cun'l, 
I  mean  Gin'ral,  I've  told  you  God's  truth.  They 
didn't  capture  me,  no  sech  thing.  The  officer  he 
was  mistakened.  I  swear  on  a  stack  o'  Bibles  a 
mile  high,  I  kim  back,  all  the  way  from  a  hundred 
mile  south  o'  Chattanoogy,  whar  I  escaped  from 
the  rebs.  I  kim  back,  an'  no  man  never  captured 
me  an'  fetched  me  back.  An'  I  tole  him  'twarn't 
Scripter  fur  me  ter  be  hung." 

"  He  said.  General,"  said  one  of  the  officers, 
"  that  it  was  not  according  to  Scripture  to  kill  the 
returning  prodigal  to  feed  the  fatted  calf.  The 
officer  of  the  day  felt  that  there  was  something 
personal  in  the  allusion." 

The  laughter  broke  out  again,  and  Jack  stood 
unconscious  and  embarrassed. 

"  You  may  return  to  your  company,"  said  Gen- 
eral Carter.  "  The  army  has  better  uses  for  such 
men  than  shooting  them.  The  officer  of  the  day 
is  right  about  punishing  deserters.  We  have  been 
greatly  troubled,  and  have  felt  that  severe  measures 


Jack's   Return  to  his   Regiment  171 

must  be  taken.  But  I  do  not  think,  and  I  do  not 
believe  that  he  thinks,  now  that  he  has  heard  your 
story,  that  this  is  the  case  to  begin  with.  You  are 
a  brave  man,  and  I  am  sure  will  not  desert  again. 
Go  to  your  company  and  do  your  duty." 

General  Carter  rose  and  offered  his  hand  to  Jack. 
It  did  not  occur  to  Jack  that  this  was  an  unusual 
thing,  or  one  that  should  have  embarrassed  him. 
Rather  his  embarrassment  began  to  leave  him,  and 
he  grasped  the  general's  hand  with  a  strong,  true 
grip,  and  gave  it  the  mountain  pump-handle  shake, 
saying : 

"  Thank  ye,  Cun'l.  I'm  mighty  proud  to  see  you 
a  gin'ral.  Ef  you  want  anything  hard  done,  jes' 
send  fur  me,  an'  I'm  there.  I'm  mightily  obleeged 
to  ye.  I  knowed  you'd  understand,  fur  you're  from 
East  Tennessy  yerself." 

"  That's  a  noble  fellow,"  said  General  Carter,  as 
Jack  went  out.  "  He  has  in  him  the  making  of  a 
soldier." 


XIV 

The  Battle  of  Mill  Spring  ^ 

IT  was  a  dreary  Sunday  morning  in  January. 
The  mud  was  deep  in  the  roads  from  Logan's 
Cross  Roads  to  Somerset,  and  had  been  stirred 
to  the  consistency  of  glue  by  the  tramping  of 
the  troops,  the  passage  of  cavalry,  and  the  deep  cut- 
ting of  the  artillery,  making  deeper  the  ruts  that  in 
places  were  declared  to  have  no  bottom.  A  mule 
team,  the  soldiers  affirmed,  dropped  into  one  and 
disappeared,  all  save  the  ears  of  the  mules.  It  had 
rained  almost  incessantly  since  the  new  year,  and 
this  was  the  nineteenth  day  of  the  month.  The 
battle  which  yesterday  had  seemed  imminent,  now 
seemed  unlikely  to  occur  for  several  days  ;  for  the 
Cumberland  separated  the  armies,  and  Fishing  Creek 
was  swollen  full  to  the  tops  of  the  banks. 

Carter  had  left  his  position  at  London,  to  which 
he  had  been  returned,  and  where  he  kept  an  eye 
like  that  of  a  mountain  wild  cat  on  the  Gap,  ready 
to  pounce  on  the  rebels  whenever  they  should  come 
out  of  their  holes,  and  had  come  without  direct  orders 
from  Buell,  who  was  now  in  command,  to  the  help 
of  the  army  before  Mill  Spring.  For  Buell  had 
informed  Thomas  that  his  own  larger  plans  must 
not  suffer  by  sending  reinforcements  to  the  minor 
campaign  in  the  mountains  of  Kentucky. 

1  Called  also  the  Battle  of  Fishing  Creek  and  of  Logan's  Cross  Roads. 
172 


The  Battle  of  Mill  Spring  173 

The  Tennesseeans  were  creeping  out  of  their 
damp  blankets  under  the  dripping  tents  and  get- 
ting into  their  muddy  clothes.  There  was  no  little 
grumbling,  for  their  wagons  had  been  kept  back  by 
the  rain,  and  rations  were  short ;  but  there  was  little 
time  to  cook  breakfast. 

Just  at  daylight,  the  half-dressed  men  were  sur- 
prised by  the  sound  of  a  vigorous  attack  upon  the 
Kentucky  troops  near  by.  The  Confederates  had 
made  their  way  down  the  road  to  the  right,  and  had 
fallen  first  on  Wolford's  Kentucky  horsemen  with 
such  suddenness  as  almost  to  capture  their  horses. 
Behind  the  cavalry,  and  next  to  receive  the  attack, 
was  Col.  Speed  S.  Fry  with  his  Kentucky  infan- 
try. To  protect  the  exposed  wing  came  Colonel 
Manson  with  his  loth  Indiana,  and  Van  Cleve  with 
the  2d  Minnesota.  Both  these  men  fought  with 
our  friends  in  later  battles  as  generals. 

Carter's  Tennesseeans,  two  thousand  strong,  were 
hurried  through  the  woods  to  the  left,  where  they 
took  position  in  the  edge  of  the  timber,  facing  a  corn 
field  through  which  the  Confederates  were  stubbornly 
fighting  their  way.  In  spite  of  their  surprise,  and 
with  no  superiority  in  numbers,  the  Union  forces 
were  quickly  and  effectively  placed,  commanding 
three  sides  of  this  field.  While  the  Confederates 
fought  with  might  and  main,  they  were  met  in  front 
with  equal  courage,  and  from  either  side  there  poured 
in  upon  them  a  heavy  cross-fire. 

The  Tennesseeans  had  just  a  moment  for  breath, 
after  taking  position,  before  the  battle  waxed  hot 
upon  the  left.  The  West  Point  officer,  who  had 
wanted  to  hang  Jack,  improved  that  moment   by 


174  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

showing  the  men  how  to  transform  a  rail  fence  into  a 
series  of  rude  forts  with  sally  ports  between.  Taking 
the  inner  ends  of  the  rails,  they  moved  them  inward, 
pair  by  pair,  beginning  with  the  top,  making  of  the 
fence  a  row  of  triangular  pens,  breast-high  in  front, 
in  which  the  two  regiments  were  distributed. 

"  Boys,  that  West  Point  officer  is  good  for  some- 
thin',  hain't  he  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  I'll  never  say  agin  that  he  hain't,"  said  Sergeant 
Hallet.     "  This  is  as  good  a  fort  as  I  want." 

It  was  a  simple  device,  and  one  often  followed 
later  by  both  armies,  and  no  stone  wall  served  better 
in  giving  confidence  to  raw  men  when  fortifications 
must  be  constructed  instantly  and  under  fire. 

"  Here  they  come  !      Ready,  boys  !  " 

Up  through  the  stumps  of  the  cornstalks  the 
Confederates  came.  They  had  marched  nine  miles 
through  the  mud  and  rain.  Their  powder  was  wet 
in  many  cases,  and  often  guns  refused  to  fire,  the 
soldiers  pulling  the  trigger  over  and  over,  and  un- 
able to  tell  in  the  noise  of  battle  that  the  wet  load 
was  still  in  their  guns,  sometimes  ramming  down 
load  after  load  upon  the  wet  powder  and  impacted 
ball.  Yet  there  was  firing  enough,  and  the  woods 
were  soon  full  of  smoke  and  fog,  and  the  rain  kept 
up  its  dreary  dripping. 

Out  of  the  smoke  and  fog,  a  regiment  came  up 
against  the  rail  pens,  and  fought  like  fiends  for  pos- 
session of  them.  It  was  a  Tennessee  regiment,  com- 
manded by  another  Colonel  Carter,  and  Greek  met 
Greek. 

Twice  they  came  up  and  fell  back.  Once  they 
drove  the  men  from  the  pens,  but  with  a   savage 


Jack  Meets  an   Old  Acquaintance.        Page  175. 


The  Battle  of  Mill  Spring  175 

yell  the  mountaineers  charged  and  drove  them  back. 
Jack,  with  five  companions,  regained  the  pen  from 
which  they  had  been  driven,  and  fired  their  guns 
across  the  rails  point-blank  into  the  faces  of  the 
enemy.  The  Confederates  wavered  and  their 
colonel  fell,  but  that  instant  a  young  lieutenant 
rushed  ahead  and  rallied  them,  leading  them  to 
the  very  line  of  the  fence.  There  was  not  a  loaded 
gun  in  the  pen  where  Jack  stood,  but  Jack  seized 
his  gun  by  the  muzzle  and  with  its  clubbed  breech 
struck  at  the  officer's  head.  The  lieutenant  sprang 
aside  and  threw  up  his  sword  to  ward  off  the  blow. 
The  sword  arm  received  its  full  force,  and  the  sword 
fell  from  his  hand.  He  fell  to  the  ground  and  was 
up  again  in  a  minute,  his  right  arm  hanging  painful 
and  useless.  He  took  the  sword  in  his  left  hand, 
and  attempted  to  lead  on  the  charge,  but  the  fire 
from  front  and  flank  was  more  than  flesh  could 
bear.  He  reeled  as  he  turned,  and  two  men  sup- 
ported him  as  he  was  borne  to  the  rear.  Yet  in 
that  single  instant,  while  Jack's  gun  was  falling 
upon  the  upraised  arm,  he  and  Sam  Marshall 
recognized  each  other. 

The  nominal  leader  of  the  Confederates  in  this 
battle  was  General  Crittenden,  but  the  man  whom 
the  soldiers  trusted  was  Zollicofi^er.  Crittenden  was 
declared  to  have  left  Mill  Springs  drunk,  and  the 
men  under  him  protested  against  his  commanding. 
But  they  were  willing  to  fight  under  their  old  leader, 
who  was  second  in  command,  for  ZoUicoft'er  was  a 
good,  true  man,  and  they  trusted  him.  The  one 
thing  needed  then  to  make  complete  their  discom- 
fiture occurred  in  the  death  of  ZoUicoffer. 


176  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

The  soldiers  affirmed  that  Colonel  Fry  shot  him, 
and  sang  a  doggerel  song  which  said, — 

"Up  jumped  Colonel  Fry, 
And  shot  him  in  the  eye. 
And  sent  him  to  the  happy  land  of  Canaan." 

But  the  tale  told  on  the  ground  for  many  years  was 
that  old  Jack  Christian  had  started  out  that  morning 
with  his  squirrel  rifle  on  his  shoulder  to  go  to  the 
house  of  a  neighbor,  and  found  himself  unexpectedly 
between  the  armies.  Making  the  best  of  his  way 
out,  he  was  near  to  escaping  at  the  Union  left,  when 
a  horseman  bore  down  upon  him  through  the  fog. 
Confused  and  alarmed,  he  drew  his  gun  to  his 
shoulder  and  fired,  and  Fry,  charging  with  his  men 
a  moment  later,  found  dead  in  the  dripping  woods 
the  real  commander  of  the  Confederates.  Whether 
this  was  true  or  not.  Jack  Christian  believed  it  true, 
and  later  became  insane,  brooding  over  his  killing  of 
so  good  a  general. 

It  was  useless  fighting  after  the  Confederates  knew 
that  ZoUicoffer  was  killed.  Fatigued  and  hungry, 
depleted  and  discouraged,  they  broke  and  retreated, 
but  halted  at  a  ravine  a  short  distance  back,  and  made 
one  more  stand.  It  was  a  forlorn  hope.  The  ar- 
tillery, which  up  to  this  time  had  taken  little  part  in 
the  fight,  opened  fire,  and  the  Union  infantry  bore 
down  upon  them,  with  Wolford's  daring  cavalry. 
They  broke  again,  and  this  time  hopelessly.  They 
ran  through  the  mud  and  rain,  demoralized  and 
breathless.  They  threw  away  their  guns,  and  then 
their  haversacks.  Thev  abandoned  their  cannon,  and 
left  their  way  strewn  with  dead  and  wounded,  and 


The  Battle  of  Mill  Spring  177 

every  kind  of  baggage.  They  ran  to  Mill  Spring, 
nine  miles,  through  mud  of  fathomless  depth,  and 
rain  that  never  ceased  falling.  The  camp  was  soon 
alive  with  shells,  which  Thomas  sent  flying  after 
them.  They  left  the  camp.  They  left  their  cannon 
mounted.  They  left  their  provisions  and  camp  uten- 
sils. Wet  and  weary,  without  food  or  shelter,  and 
already  dropping  with  fatigue,  they  started  through 
the  wilderness  into  Tennessee,  some  to  perish  by  the 
way,  and  others  to  arrive  at  Knoxville,  the  shattered 
remnant  of  what  had  once  been  a  splendid  army. 
General  Sherman  proved  to  have  been  right  in  his 
estimate  that  two  hundred  thousand  men  would  be 
needed  for  offensive  warfare  in  the  army  of  the 
Cumberland :  the  mistake  was  in  assuming  that 
these  must  all  come  from  the  North  because  of  the 
solid  disloyalty  of  the  South.  Zollicoffer,  after  the 
most  desperate  exertions,  had  enlisted  few  Ken- 
tuckians.  But  of  the  seven  infantry  regiments  that 
drove  back  his  army,  three  only  were  from  the 
North.  The  other  four,  besides  Wolford's  dashing 
and  fearless  horsemen,  were  from  the  loyal  South, 
—  the  1st  and  id  Tennessee,  and  the  4th  and  loth 
Kentucky. 

Throughout  the  country  there  rang  a  shout  of 
joy.  It  was  the  first  decisive  engagement  of  the 
West.  It  proved  that  the  smaller  victory  at  the 
Wild  Cat  Mountain  had  been  no  accident.  The 
soldiers  sang  with  savage  triumph, — 

**  ZoUicofFer's  dead. 
And  the  last  words  he  said 
Were,  'Here's  another  Wild  Cat  a-coming  !  '  " 


lyS  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

The  people  of  the  North  who  had  been  wearied  and 
discouraged  by  delays  about  Washington,  took  heart 
again  at  this  small,  but  decisive  and  important,  vic- 
tory. Had  it  been  promptly  followed  up,  the  results 
might  have  been  even  more  important  than  they  were. 
General  Thomas  was  himself  surprised  by  the  mag- 
nitude of  his  victory.  He  had  been  quite  content 
with  the  thought  of  driving  back  the  rebels.  When 
Colonel  Fry  asked  him  afterward,  why  he  had  not  fol- 
lowed his  advantage  with  a  demand  for  the  surrender 
of  the  entire  army,  he  thought  awhile,and  answered, — 
"  Hang  it.  Fry,  I  never  once  thought  of  it !  " 
It  was  the  more  of  a  pity  that  omniscience  should 
not  have  been  joined  to  the  omnipotence  which  the 
soldiers  attributed  to  General  Thomas.  They  had 
great  faith  in  his  ability  to  give  orders  and  secure 
obedience,  and  they  long  repeated  how  the  turning- 
point  of  the  battle  had  been  his  rising  in  his  stirrups 
and  shouting, 

"  Attention,  Creation  !  By  kingdoms,  right  wheel ! " 
But  if  Thomas,  who  was  slow  as  well   as   sure, 
underestimated  the  importance  of  an  immediate  for- 
ward movement,  still  more  did  Buell,^  who  in  plan- 

1  "Executive  Mansion,  Washington,  January  6,  1862. 

"My  Dear  Sir  :  — Your  despatch  of  yesterday  has  been  received,  and  it  disap- 
points and  distresses  me.  .  .  .  My  distress  is  that  our  friends  in  East  Tennessee  are 
being  hanged  and  driven  to  despair,  and  even  now  I  fear  are  thinking  of  taking  rebel 
arms  for  the  sake  of  personal  protection.  In  this  we  lose  the  most  valuable  stake 
we  have  in  the  South.  My  despatch  to  which  yours  is  an  answer  was  sent  with 
the  knowledge  of  Senator  Johnson  and  Representative  Maynard,  of  East  Tennessee, 
and  they  will  be  upon  me  to  know  the  answer,  which  I  cannot  safely  show  them. 
They  would  despair ;  possibly  resign  to  go  and  save  their  families  somehow  or  die 
with  them. 

"  I  do  not  intend  this  to  be  an  order  in  any  sense,  but  merely,  as  intimated  before, 
to  show  you  the  grounds  of  my  anxiety. 

"Yours,  very  truly,  A.  Lincoln. 

"Brigadier-General  Buell." 


The   Battle  of  Mill  Spring  179 

ning  the  larger  operations  toward  the  Mississippi, 
had  little  strength  to  spare  for  what  he  counted  a 
wholly  minor  effort  on  behalf  of  East  Tennessee. 
The  roads  were  almost  impassable,  the  Confederates 
had  fled,  and  there  was  no  immediate  call  for  advance, 
which  was,  indeed,  extremely  difficult,  on  account  of 
the  constant  rain  and  the  condition  of  the  roads  and 
streams. 

Late  on  Monday,  Jack's  company  was  pushed 
across  the  Cumberland  to  Mill  Spring.  The  Con- 
federate camp  was  already  in  possession  of  the  Union 
soldiers.  Jack  was  detailed  to  assist  in  the  burial  of 
the  dead,  and  he  looked  among  them  for  men  he 
knew,  and  was  glad  not  to  find  Sam  Marshall  there. 
He  went  to  the  hospitals,  and  did  not  find  him. 
But  a  young  woman  who  lived  on  Mill  Spring  Hill, 
and  whose  home  had  been  used  for  Zollicoffer's 
headquarters,  gave  him  some  information  about  the 
man  whom  he  had  struck.  When  the  surgeons  first 
arrived  at  the  camp,  and  began  their  work  among 
the  wounded,  she  was  required,  in  the  absence  of 
other  help,  to  assist  them.  The  surgeons  from  the 
two  armies  met  in  friendship,  and  attended  to  men 
as  they  came  to  them,  without  distinction  of  rank 
or  side.  It  was  a  Union  surgeon  whom  she  was 
assisting,  and  he  came  to  a  young  Confederate  officer 
suffering  from  a  fracture  of  the  right  arm,  which  had 
been  greatly  aggravated  by  his  nine  miles'  retreat. 
He  was  eager  to  be  attended  to,  and  in  need  of 
immediate  assistance.  Yet  he  scornfully  refused  the 
Union  surgeon's  aid,  and  waited  for  a  Confederate. 
A  few  bitter-spirited  men  on  both  sides,  she  said, 
had  done  the  same.     The  surgeon  with  a  curse  had 


i8o  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

left  him,  and  it  was  long  before  a  Confederate  sur- 
geon came  to  his  help.  By  that  time  the  work  of 
the  surgeon  she  had  been  helping  was  over.  It 
was  well  toward  morning,  she  said,  and  she  was 
coming  with  water,  when  the  physician,  seeing  her 
pass,  stopped  her  for  a  moment,  and  asked  her  to 
hold  the  ends  of  the  splints  while  he  put  on  the 
bandages.  The  wounded  man  was  suffering  greatly, 
and  spoke  most  bitterly  of  his  wound,  and  of  the 
man  who  had  struck  him,  whom  he  said  he  recog- 
nized, and  he  would  have  his  life  to  pay  for  it.  She 
remembered  him  well,  —  a  tall,  handsome  fellow,  with 
flashing  black  eyes  and  courage  like  a  lion,  but  with  a 
spirit  so  bitter  that  she  shrank  from  him,  even  while 
gladly  helping  him.  The  officer  was  a  prisoner,  but 
was  so  badly  wounded  that  he  was  not  guarded. 
When  he  got  away  she  did  not  know,  but  in  the 
morning  he  was  gone.  Having  told  Jack  this  story, 
the  young  woman  appealed  to  him  for  help. 

"  We  are  loyal,"  she  said.  "  My  father  is  in 
Thomas'  army,  and  now  will  surely  come  to  us. 
We  have  suffered  from  the  rebels,  but  have  been 
protected  by  them.  We  have  looked  forward  to 
this  day  with  hope  and  prayer.  Now  the  Union 
soldiers  that  have  come  to  our  house  scorn  our 
professions  of  loyalty.  They  treat  us  worse  than 
the  rebels  did.  We  are  almost  starved  for  want  of 
food.  They  have  eaten  all  we  have.  You  are  a 
Southern  man,  and  know  that  there  are  loyal  people 
in  the  South.  Secure  us  protection  till  my  father 
comes." 

There  was  many  a  woman  in  the  South  who 
made  the  same  appeal  during  the  four  long  years 


The  Battle  of  Mill  Spring 


i«i 


of  the  war.  Some  spoke  untruly  and  were  believed, 
and  abused  their  trust.  But  some,  alas !  spoke 
truly  and  were  not  believed.  And  there  is  no  sad- 
der tale  that  is  told  to-day  by  those  who  lived  in 
the  South  during  the  four  years  of  horror,  than  that 
of  loyal  people  suffering  at  the  hands  of  those  who 
should  have  been  their  protectors. 

"I'm  done  with  my  work,"  said  Jack,  "an'  I've 
got  nothin'  to  do  till  my  reg'maint  comes  up.  I'll 
stand  on  guard  afore  this  door,  miss,  an'  ef  ary  man 
tries  to  cross  the  threshold  without  right  or  leave, 
I'll  put  a  bullet  through  his  skin,  whether  it's  cov- 
ered with  blue  or  with  but' nut." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  young  woman's  mother, 
as  she  came  to  the  door,  and  Jack  explained  his 
mission,  and  the  daughter  enlarged  upon  his  kind 
offer.  "  Thank  you  ;  I  am  glad  that  some  men  in 
the  Union  army  know  that  there  are  loyal  people 
in  the  South." 

A  few  hours  later.  Jack's  regiment  came  up,  and 
with  it  came  also  the  owner  of  the  house.  With  a 
cry  of  joy,  the  women  embraced  him  after  months 
of  separation  and  danger,  and  when  they  told  him 
of  Jack's  kindness,  and  the  father  turned  to  thank 
him,  Jack  had  gone. 

Note.  —  I  am  constrained  to  add  to  this  chapter  a  quotation  from  Parson 
Brownlow  concerning  General  Zollicoffer  : 

"He  was  a  man  who  never  wronged  an  individual  out  of  a  cent  in  his  life; 
never  told  a  lie  in  his  life  ;  as  brave  a  man  personally  as  Andrew  Jackson  ever  was ; 
and  the  only  mean  thing  I  ever  knew  him  to  do  was  to  join  the  Southern 
Confederacy. 


XV 

A  Duel  in  the   Dark 

ALL  this  while  Knoxville  was  quivering  with 
excitement.  The  officers  who  had  fought 
at  Mill  Spring  —  Crittenden,  ZoUicoffer, 
Carroll,  and  Wood  —  had  all  been  in  au- 
thority in  Knoxville,  and  were  well  known  in  the 
city.  Most  of  the  troops  had  passed  through 
Knoxville  on  their  way  to  the  field.  When  the 
broken  fragments  of  the  army  came  back,  dripping, 
starving,  and  terrified,  with  the  news  of  Zollicoffer's 
death  and  the  disaster  that  had  hopelessly  befallen 
the  army,  the  city  went  wild.  The  Confederates 
expected  an  instant  advance  that  would  compel 
the  surrender  of  the  city ;  and  the  loyal  people, 
who  were  becoming  depleted,  rejoiced  greatly.  But 
General  Buell,  tried  by  the  lack  of  discipline  and 
constant  annoyance  of  his  raw  troops,  feared  to 
undertake  such  an  expedition  under  the  conditions 
which  then  existed.  So  Thomas  was  ordered  to 
join  Buell's  main  army  ;  and  Carter,  the  watch-dog 
of  the  Gap,  returned  to  his  old  station  at  London. 
There  Carter  went  into  winter  quarters.  The 
soldiers  were  quartered  all  about  in  the  moun- 
tains, guarding  the  different  roads,  making  occa- 
sional raids  upon  the  Confederate  outposts,  and 
subsisting  as  best  they  were  able  on  the  barren 
country.      It  was  hard  for  the  soldiers,  and  not  less 


A  Duel  in  the  Dark  183 

so  for  the  people.  The  roads  were  so  bad  as  almost 
to  cut  them  off  from  their  base  of  supplies.  From 
Crab  Orchard  the  streams  were  past  fording  much 
of  the  time,  and  in  the  brief  intervals  of  their  subsi- 
dence, the  roads  were  so  gullied  out  by  the  rains, 
and  so  steep  and  rocky  beside,  as  to  be  well-nigh 
impassable.  Desperate  were  the  efforts  to  relieve 
them.  It  was  said  that  one  might  have  walked  on 
dead  mules  from  London  to  Crab  Orchard,  and  still 
the  troops  nearly  starved.  Scurvy  broke  out  among 
them.  The  loth  Indiana,  out  of  its  nine  hundred 
men,  had  but  two  hundred  fit  for  duty  by  spring. 

The  soldiers  broke  over  all  attempts  at  discipline, 
and  foraged  and  stole  without  mercy.  The  poor 
Union  people  of  the  region,  who  had  suffered  from 
small  crops  because  their  sons  and  husbands  were 
in  the  army,  and  had  been  once  pillaged  by  the 
rebels,  had  now  to  suffer  even  worse  plundering, 
because  of  direr  need,  at  the  hands  of  their  own 
friends. 

Jack  escaped  all  this.  Soon  after  their  return  to 
London,  he  found  himself  one  morning  unable  to 
rise.  The  camp  surgeon,  who  came  to  see  him, 
said : 

"  You're  in  for  a  run  of  fever,  and  the  hospital  is 
full.     You  couldn't  get  home,  could  you  ?  " 

"  Not  home,"  said  Jack  ;  "  but  ef  I  had  a  horse 
and  some  one  to  go  with  me,  I  reckon  I  might  get 
to  some  sorter  kinfolks  o'  mine  at  Roundstone." 

"  I'll  get  you  a  furlough,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  and 
see  about  a  horse." 

It  was  a  hard  day's  ride,  but  the  weather  was 
clear  and  cool,  and  Jack  was  nerved  to  the  fatigue 


184  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

by  the  prospect  of  a  home  and  a  bed.  He  had 
often  to  rest  by  the  way,  but  just  in  the  dusk  of 
evening  Jack,  and  his  companion,  Sam  Loomis, 
passed  through  the  Oxyoke  Gap  and  drew  rein 
before  the  house  of  John  Whitley. 

"Hello,  thar !  Who's  thar  ?  'Light  an'  come 
in  !  "  called  John. 

Jack  and  Sam  made  their  way  to  the  door,  and 
Jack  sank  wearily  into  a  chair  before  the  fire,  his 
face  flushed  with  fever,  and  his  hands  shaking  with 
fatigue. 

"  Hit's  a  bad  penny  come  back,"  said  he,  with  a 
faint  attempt  at  a  joke. 

"  I  see,  I  see  !  "  replied  John,  heartily,  "  an'  come 
back  wus'n  wut  it  was  wen  it  went  away.  Git  off 
yer  duds  now,  an'  git  inter  thet  bed,  an'  I'll  see 
wut  I  kin  do  fur  ye.  Se'  down  thar,  young  man, 
tell  I  git  this  feller  inter  bed,  an'  I'll  go  with  ye 
an'  putt  out  the  beastis." 

As  they  were  going  out  soon  after  to  attend  to 
the  horses,  John  hailed  a  passing  neighbor,  and 
asked  him  to  send  word  to  Dr.  Culvert  that  he 
was  needed.  Then  they  put  the  horses  in  the 
barn,  and  gave  them  some  "  roughness,"  as  John 
called  the  bundles  of  blade  fodder,  and  produced 
from  a  place  of  concealment  ten  short  ears  of  corn, 
which  he  divided  between  them. 

"Hit  tain't  'nough,"  said  he;  "but  a  company 
of  sojers  passed  through  here  a  spell  ago,  an'  didn't 
leave  us  much  for  ourselves,  let  alone  the  bosses." 

"  Which  army  ?  " 

"  The  Lincoln  army.  That  was  the  wust  on  it. 
They  was  hungry,  I  reckon,  an'  so  was  their  bosses. 


A  Duel  in  the  Dark  185 

an'  they  needed  wut  they  could  git,  but  they  mought 
a  ben  a  leetle  mite  more  human  about  it.  Hit's 
sorter  hard  to  take  sass  from  yer  friends,  an'  be 
called  an  ole  reb  wen  yer  mighty  nigh  starvin'  fur 
the  Union,  an'  got  three  sons  bein'  shot  at  in  the 
Union  army." 

It  was  late  in  the  night  when  Dr.  Culvert  arrived. 
Low  as  was  his  store  of  quinine,  he  administered  it 
to  Jack. 

"  He'll  pull  through  all  right,"  he  said,  "  an'  he 
wouldn't  a  ben  sick  at  all  ef  he'd  a  stayed  here,  an' 
not  went  back  to  the  army  fur  a  few  weeks.  But 
he  hain't  a-goin'  to  be  much  sick,  though  he  won't 
do  no  more  fightin'  till  spring." 

From  time  to  time  he  called,  and  found  Jack 
"  runnin'  along"  with  the  fever  which,  after  three 
weeks,  broke  and  left  him  weak  and  convalescent. 
During  this  time  Jennie  was  the  most  faithful  of 
nurses,  and  Cub  was  constantly  trotting  in  and  out, 
devoted  to  his  guardian,  and  asking  daily,  — 

"Ain't  you  well  yet?  Well,  when  is  you  goin' 
to  get  well  ?  " 

At  the  close  of  a  fortnight,  Ephraim  Whitley 
came  home  from  his  regiment  on  a  furlough.  There 
was  little  to  do,  he  reported,  and  provisions  were 
short,  and  they  were  glad  enough  to  have  some  of 
the  men  at  home.  He  and  Jack,  already  firm 
friends,  rejoiced  to  meet  in  Ephraim's  home,  and 
together  they  passed  more  cheerfully  the  weary 
days  of  Jack's  convalescence. 

One  night  in  March,  when  Jack  was  getting  to 
feel  almost  himself  again,  and  Ephraim  was  prepar- 
ing  to   return,  a    stranger   called   and   asked   for   a 


1 86  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

night's  entertainment  for  himself  and  horse,  which 
was  readily  granted.  John  went  out  with  him  to 
put  his  horse  into  the  barn,  and  the  stranger  asked 
permission  to  bring  into  the  house  a  heavy  sack 
which  he  had  been  carrying  behind  his  saddle. 

"  Hit'll  be  all  right  here,"  said  John,  "  but  fetch  it 
inter  the  house  ef  yer  wanter.     Wut  yer  got  in  it  ?  " 

"Salt,"  said  the  stranger.  "I've  ben  to  the  salt 
works  at  Manchester,  an'  I'm  a-takin'  two  bushel 
o'  salt  to  my  folks  down  in  Tennessy." 

There  was  nothing  unusual  in  this  ;  but  precious 
as  salt  was,  the  place  that  was  safe  enough  for  the 
horses,  which  in  all  pioneer  countries  are  the  most 
valued  of  chattels,  was  safe  enough  for  the  salt. 

"  Fetch  hit  in,  ef  you'll  feel  any  easier  about  it," 
said  John.  "  Hello,  Eph !  Come  out  an'  give  this 
man  a  lift  with  his  bag  o'  salt." 

"You  needn't  mind.  I  kin  pack  hit,"  said  the 
stranger. 

He  carried  the  salt  into  the  living-room,  though 
John  rather  plainly  hinted  that  it  would  be  less  in 
the  way  in  the  kitchen,  and  set  it  down  in  the  corner 
farthest  from  the  door,  and  threw  his  overcoat  upon 
it.  Then  he  turned  to  greet  Eph,  who  was  sitting 
by  the  fire,  and  Jack,  who  was  lying  in  his  clothes 
upon  the  bed.  He  started  visibly  at  their  uniforms, 
and  said : 

"  Ah,  sojers,  I  see  !  I  didn't  know  as  they  was 
ary  sojer  round  this  holler  ?  " 

"  They  hain't  many,"  said  John  ;  "  but  a  heap  has 
gone  from  here  to  the  war.  These  is  my  boys,  one 
on  'em  my  own  boy  an'  t'other  sorter  kinfolks.  I 
got  two  more  boys  in  the  army." 


A  Duel  in  the  Dark  187 

The  stranger,  not  without  some  appearance  of 
constraint,  began  a  profuse  and  unstinted  com- 
mendation of  John  for  sending  his  sons  to  the 
field,  and  a  profession  of  loyalty  to  the  govern- 
ment. It  was  so  earnest  that  it  quite  compelled 
their  admiration,  and  drew  out  John's  heartiest  hos- 
pitahty.  Eph,  too,  found  himself  warming  to  the 
stranger,  but  Jack  lay  with  closed  eyes,  listening  and 
saying  nothing. 

John  took  the  stranger  into  the  kitchen  for  sup- 
per, and  Eph  would  have  gone  with  him,  but  Jack 
motioned  him  back. 

"  Eph,"  said  he,  "  they's  somethin'  wrong  with 
that  feller.  You  watch  him  mighty  close.  You 
see  that  he  sleeps  in  the  loft  to-night,  an'  we'll 
see  wut's  in  that  sack." 

"  Why,  wut  do  ye  think  ?  " 

"  I  don'  know.  But  I'm  dead  sure  he's  a  spy 
or  a  smuggler,  one.  He's  got  somethin'  inside 
that  bag  besides  salt." 

Supper  being  ended,  the  stranger  sat  in  the  chim- 
ney-corner, and  entertained  them  long  with  his  sto- 
ries. He  was  genial,  and  had  a  hearty  laugh,  which 
to  Jack  seemed  a  trifle  strained.  At  length  he  said 
he  was  tired,  and  if  they  didn't  mind  he  believed 
he'd  lie  down. 

"  I'll  show  ye  to  the  loft,"  said  Eph,  and  took 
a  candle. 

"  Ef  ye  don'  mind,  I'd  a  leetle  mite  druther  sleep 
by  the  far.  I  got  a  tech  o'  rheumatiz,  an'  I'd  jes'  a 
leetle  mite  druther  sleep  down  stairs,  that  is,  ef  hit's 
jes'  as  convenient." 

John  started  to  say  that  it  would  be  just  as  con- 


1 88  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

venlent,  but  stopped  when  he  saw  that  Eph  knew 
what  he  was  doing. 

"  Well,  I'm  sorry,  but  hit  tain't  right  convenient 
fur  ye  to  sleep  down  here.  You  see  my  friend  here 
hain't  got  well  yit,  an'  I  sleep  with  him  to  look  atter 
him,  an'  pa's  gittin'  sorter  old,  an'  we  don'  like  to 
send  him  up  stairs." 

This  was  dangerously  near  a  lie,  for  John  would 
have  resented  being  considered  an  old  man,  and  he 
often  slept  in  the  loft. 

"  That  needn't  make  no  difference.  Jes'  let  me 
sleep  with  him,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I'm  used  to 
double-teamin'." 

"  No,  they  hain't  no  use  o'  that,"  said  Eph. 
"You  kin  jes'  as  well  hev  a  bed  to  yerself,"  and 
he  led  the  way  to  the  loft. 

John  Whitley  began  to  see  that  all  was  not  right. 
While  Eph  was  up  stairs  with  the  stranger,  he  sought 
an  explanation  from  Jack,  who  told  him  of  his 
suspicions. 

"  Shore  enough,"  said  John.  "  They  hain't  no 
manner  o'  doubt  of  it.  We'll  see  wut's  in  thet 
sack." 

They  partially  undressed  and  lay  upon  the  beds. 
The  fire  had  been  covered,  and  the  room  was  dark. 
At  a  signal  from  Jack,  Eph  rose  and  blew  the  coals 
enough  to  light  the  wick  of  a  candle,  which  he 
handed  to  Jack,  and  then  took  down  two  guns  from 
the  forks  above  the  fire,  and  gave  one  to  his  father, 
taking  the  other  himself  Carefully  walking  in  their 
stockings  over  the  creaking  floor,  they  gathered  about 
the  sack.  Eph  set  down  his  gun  and  drew  the  ram- 
rod, and  then  untied  the  sack.     Jack  held  the  light 


A  Duel  in  the  Dark  189 

in  one  hand  and  the  mouth  of  the  sack  in  the  other, 
while  Eph  with  his  left  hand  held  the  opposite  side 
of  the  bag,  and  with  his  right  thrust  the  rod  deep 
into  the  salt. 

"  I've  hit  suthin',"  he  said,  and  baring  his  arm, 
followed  the  ramrod  down  into  the  bag,  and  brought 
up  a  package  wrapped  in  paper. 

"  They's  more,"  said  he,  "  but  less  see  what's  in 
this." 

They  stood  about  it  while  Eph  untied  the  string, 
and  was  about  to  unwrap  it,  when  suddenly  there 
came  a  pistol  shot  from  the  head  of  the  ladder,  and 
John  Whitley  fell,  mortally  wounded,  on  the  floor 
of  his  own  house. 

With  a  cry  of  surprise  and  anger,  Eph  and  Jack 
turned  toward  the  assassin,  and  as  they  did  so,  a 
bullet  passed  over  them  and  lodged  in  the  log  wall 
of  the  house.  The  murderer  was  making  for  the 
door  with  all  speed.  Eph  seized  him  midway,  and 
Jack  dropped  the  candle  to  take  up  a  gun,  and  the 
light  went  out. 

Eph  seized  the  stranger's  hand,  as  it  was  levelled 
to  shoot  again,  and  threw  it  up,  with  the  pistol  in 
it.  Then  they  struggled  in  the  dark  for  posses- 
sion of  the  weapon,  and  each  for  the  other's  life. 
It  took  less  than  a  minute,  but  it  seemed  a  night. 
Jack  turned  to  the  fireplace,  and  tried  to  light  the 
candle,  but  could  not  blow  the  coals  into  flame. 
Just  then  the  kitchen  door  flew  open,  and  Jennie 
stood  in  the  door  with  a  light  and  Cub  holding  to 
her  wrapper,  and  at  that  instant  the  pistol,  held  by 
the  two  struggling  men,  went  off^  while  pointed  up- 
ward, and  the  murderer  fell,  shot  under  the  chin. 


190  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

Jennie  cast  herself  upon  her  father's  body,  weep- 
ing and  lamenting.  Jack  gently  led  her  away,  and 
he  and  Eph  got  him  on  the  bed.  He  was  not 
bleeding  greatly  externally,  but  had  been  shot  in 
the  side  at  a  downward  angle  through  both  lungs, 
which  were  rapidly  filling  with  blood  from  internal 
hemorrhage.  Eph  went  for  Dr.  Culvert,  and  he 
soon  came,  but  nothing  could  be  done.  The  mur- 
derer had  died  instantly,  and  John  Whitley  had 
passed  away  before  the  doctor  came.  They  laid 
out  the  two  bodies  in  the  same  room,  the  father 
on  the  bed,  the  murderer  on  the  floor  where  he 
had  fallen,  and  they  covered  the  one  with  a  sheet, 
and  the  other  with  the  coat  which  he  had  thrown 
over  the  bag,  and  sadly,  tearfully,  and  with  a  sicken- 
ing sense  of  horror,  waited  for  the  day. 

"  Less  see  what  he  was  a-smugglin',"  said  the 
doctor,  and  completed  the  undoing  of  the  package. 

"  Quinine !  "  he  said,  as  he  laid  six  one-ounce 
bottles  on  the  table. 

There  were  ten  of  those  packages,  sixty  ounces 
in  all,  in  the  bag,  and  the  stranger  was  smuggling 
them  south  to  the  fever-stricken  soldiers  of  the 
Confederacy.  There  was  nothing  for  which  men 
ran  greater  risks.  Many  a  man  lost  his  life  in  an 
effort  to  convey  to  the  south  the  fever-soothing 
drug.  Dr.  Culvert  kept  one  package  for  himself, 
and  Eph  and  Jack  took  the  other  fifty-four  ounces 
to  the  Union  camp.  It  was  welcome  in  both  places, 
but  it  had  cost  the  lives  of  two  men,  and  one  ot 
them  was  as  true  a  patriot  as  ever  gave  his  life  tor 
his  country. 

Besides  the  great  loss  of  life  in  the  two  armies, 


A   Duel  in  the   Dark  191 

East  Tennessee  lost  an  estimated  aggregate  of  twenty- 
five  hundred  Union  men  during  the  war.  Some  of 
them  were  put  to  death  by  military  tribunals.  Some 
died  in  Southern  prisons  for  conscience'  sake.  Some 
were  shot  in  guerilla  warfare,  outlaws  but  patriots, 
some  were  assassinated,  and  some  fell  defending  their 
homes  and  their  loved  ones  against  assault.  All 
the  border  States  suffered  in  like  manner.  Some  of 
the  men  who  fell  deserved  their  fate,  being  despera- 
does and  using  the  war  as  the  occasion  for  plunder. 
But  among  the  rest  were  not  a  few  who  died  as 
bravely  and  as  worthily  as  John  Whitley. 


XVI 

If  Thine  Enemy  Hunger 

THE  winter  of  1 861-2  departed  from  the 
Cumberland  Mountains,  "  unwept,  un- 
honored,  and  unsung."  There  was  cheer- 
ing news  from  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson, 
and  Andrew  Johnson  was  at  Nashville  as  military 
governor.  That  was  something  to  be  thankful  for. 
But  it  was,  after  all,  discouraging  to  see  how  little 
good  it  did  to  the  people  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
State.  It  left  them  one  less  thing  to  hope  for. 
There  was  good  news  from  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Big  Sandy,  but  these  were  somewhat  vague  and 
remote  regions ;  and  so  far  as  the  mountain  people 
had  heard  of  outside  military  movements,  they  were 
those  of  McClellan,  whom  they  had  come  to  hold 
in  the  highest  esteem.  Almost  entirely  overlook- 
ing intervening  operations,  they  watched  eagerly 
'for  news  from  "  Little  Mac,"  and  not  even  their 
own  sorrows  depressed  them  more  than  his  inaction 
and  reverses.  It  is  a  thing  almost  to  be  wondered  at, 
but  it  is  declared  on  the  best  of  evidence,  that  the 
failure  of  McClellan's  peninsular  campaign  was  the 
most  discouraging  news  that,  in  all  the  history  of 
the  war,  saddened  the  hearts  of  the  mountaineers. 

Elizabeth  Casey  lived  a  quiet,  and  for  the  most 
part  an  uneventful,  life.  Having  few  home  duties, 
she  was   in   demand   as  a   nurse  for  the   sick,  and 

192 


If  Thine  Enemy  Hunger  193 

found  abundant  occupation  that  winter.  She 
watched  eagerly  for  the  news,  and  gave  herself  to 
the  careful  study  of  the  routes  by  which  the  army 
was  moving,  or  might  move,  for  the  sake  of  follow- 
ing the  wanderings  of  her  soldier  boy,  and  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  occupation  and  the  participation 
which  it  seemed  to  afford  in  actual  military  life. 
She  studied  such  maps  as  could  be  found  at  the 
court-house  of  the  topography  of  the  region  around 
Cumberland  Gap,  at  first  to  assist  her  imaginings 
of  the  routes  by  which  the  soldiers  would  come  into 
Tennessee,  and  later,  as  she  found  herself  attaining 
a  degree  of  knowledge  of  the  subject,  with  the  hope 
that  it  might  some  time  be  of  service.  Conversa- 
tion —  and  there  was  ample  time  for  it,  and  the  old 
people  who  had  travelled  most  about  the  mountains 
had  most  desire  to  talk  and  hope  and  conjecture  — 
enlarged  her  knowledge. 

She  had  a  mind  that  was  active,  and  a  will  that 
was    strong,    and    at    times    she    imagined    herself- 
riding    over     the     mountains    to    her    boy,    if    he 
should  be  wounded,  or  to  save  him  from  threatened 
danger. 

One  morning  toward  the  end  of  January  she 
heard  a  faint  voice  outside  her  door,  and  hastily 
opening  it,  found  on  the  rude  stone  step  that  led  up 
to  the  porch  a  Confederate  soldier.  For  a  moment 
she  shrank  back,  and  then  drew  near,  for  she  saw 
that  the  man  was  not  drunken,  as  at  first  she  had 
thought,  but  wounded  and  had  fainted. 

She  drew  him  into  the  house,  and  dashed  water 
in  his  face,  and  as  he  began  to  show  signs  of  return- 
ing life,  she  gave  him  stimulants,  and  got  him  upon 


194  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

the  bed.  All  the  time  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
knew  him,  but  who  he  was  she  could  not  remember. 

"  Give  me  something  to  eat,"  he  pleaded.  "  I'm 
'most  starved." 

She  made  him  some  gruel,  and  he  took  it  and 
fell  asleep.  That  day  and  the  next  she  kept  him, 
allowing  him  to  talk  little,  caring  for  his  shattered 
arm,  and  nursing  him  back  to  strength. 

"  I  don'  har'ly  know  as  I  ought  to  do  it,"  she 
said  ;  "  but  pore  boy,  ef  he  is  a  rebel,  he's  got  a  ma." 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  he  raised  him- 
self in  bed,  and  said : 

"  I'm  goin'  to  dress  me,  an'  go  home.  You've 
saved  my  life,  an'  I'm  mighty  thankful." 

"  Don'  go  till  yer  able,"  she  said.  "  Besides,  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  now  about  the  war.  You  come 
from  Kaintuck  ?      Has  they  ben  a  fight  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  has,"  said  he.  "  They  was  a  big 
fight  at  Mill  Spring." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  she. 

"  We  got  licked,"  said  he.  "  Thomas  licked  us 
awful.  We  had  to  leave  our  dead  an'  wounded,  an' 
run.  Zollicoffer's  dead.  Our  boys  are  scattered 
all  the  way  from  here  to  the  Kentuckv  line.  The 
most  have  gone  to  Knoxville,  but  Knoxville  has  got 
to  go  now.  They  warn't  no  use  o'  me  a-goin'  there, 
so  1  started  thisaway  towards  home.  I  live  about 
six  mile  across  the  Holston  from  here.  I  ought  to 
know  you,  but  I  ain't  been  in  this  cove  often,  though 
I  know  a  right  smart  o'  people  over  thisaway." 

"  I  thank  God  ye  got  licked,"  said  she.  "  I'm 
heart  an'  soul  agin  this  wicked  rebellion.  I  hope 
this  is  the  end  o'  hit." 


If   Thine   Enemy   Hunger  195 

"You're  Union?"  he  asked.  "You're  kind, 
though.  I've  passed  some  houses  where  they  set 
the  dogs  on  me  because  I  was  a  reb.  They'd  have 
taken  me  prisoner,  ef  they  dared,  and  give  me  up 
to  the  Union  army." 

"  You  needn't  have  no  fear  o'  me,"  she  said. 
"  They  hain't  no  Union  army  here  to  give  ye  up 
to.  I  won't  do  ye  no  harm.  I'm  bein'  good  to 
ye  for  my  boy's  sake  that's  in  the  Union  army. 
Mebby  some  rebel  woman  that's  got  a  boy  in  the 
war  mought  be  good  to  him  some  time  for  her  boy's 
sake.  Now  you  mustn't  talk  no  more.  Jes'  lay 
down  an'  rest  to-day  an'  to-night." 

"  I'll  rest  a  spell  this  mornin',"  he  said.  "  I 
ain't  har'ly  able  to  get  on.  But  before  night  I  can 
get  over  to  some  friends  o'  mine  that  live  less'n  two 
mile  from  here,  an'  stay  there  to-night,  an'  by 
mornin'  I  can  git  home." 

He  rested  that  day,  and  toward  evening  rose  and 
found  himself  able  to  stand  and  walk  a  little. 

"  I'll  be  a-goin'  now,"  he  said.  "  I'll  take  it  easy, 
and  git  acrost  to  my  friends  by  dark.  God  bless 
ye  for  what  you've  done  for  me.  You've  saved  my 
life.  We  must  be  friends  now,  ef  we  are  on  differ- 
ent sides.  I'll  have  to  be  'round  home  a  spell  now. 
Some  day  I'll  ride  over  when  I  get  strong.  Seems 
hke  I  ought  to  know  you,  anyhow." 

"'Pears  like  I  ought  to  know  you,  too,"  said  she, 
"but  I  can't  somehow  place  ye.  I'm  right  sure  I've 
seed  you  afore  ye  had  a  beard,  an'  when  you  wasn't 
so  pale.     That  makes  a  right  smart  o'  difference." 

"  My  name's  Marshall,"  said  he,  "  Dr.  Sam 
Marshall." 


196  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Sam  Marshall !  "  she  cried.  "  Be  you  the  man 
that  got  some  one  to  swear  away  the  life  o'  my  boy  ? 
Be  you  the  man  that  sent  my  boy  south  to  die  ? " 

"  Good  Lord,  woman,  who  are  you  ?  "  he  cried, 
a  suspicion  of  the  truth  crossing  his  mind. 

"  I'm  Elizabeth  Casey,  Jack  Casey's  mother. 
An'  you're  the  man  that  got  old  Pete  Stevens  to 
swear  that  my  boy  helped  burn  the  bridges.  You 
villain  !  You  perjurer  !  You  lyin'  scamp  !  I  wisht 
I'd  a  lef  ye  to  die  on  my  door-step  afore  I  saved 
the  life  o'  the  man  that  tried  to  murder  my  boy !  " 

Sam  steadied  himself  by  the  post  of  the  porch, 
and  began  speaking  thickly, — 

"  I'll  tell  you  two  things.  Mis'  Casey.  One  is,  I 
didn't  git  no  one  to  swear  false  against  your  boy. 
Leastwise,  not  as  I  know  of.  I  hunted  up  what 
ev'dence  I  could  find,  and  when  Pete  Stevens  said 
he  seen  a  man  near  there  that  favored  the  man  I 
described  as  Jack,  I  had  him  taken  to  Knoxville, 
an'  he  identified  Jack  as  the  man.  I  hain't  a-sayin' 
he  was  right  or  wrong.  I  hain't  a-sayin'  I  wasn't 
glad  to  find  him  an'  get  his  ev'dence.  But  I  swear 
on  the  Holy  Bible  I  never  bribed  no  man  to  swear 
a  lie.  That's  one  thing  I  got  to  tell  you.  There's 
another  thing.  Yer  boy  ain't  south  in  jail.  He's 
got  out.  I  don'  know  how,  and  I  don'  know  when. 
But  I  seen  him  plain  as  I  see  you  in  the  battle  o' 
Mill  Spring.  He's  the  man  that  broke  my  arm, 
an'    I've  swore  to  have  his  life  for  it. 

"  I'll  tell  you  another  thing.  Ef  I'd  a  knowed 
you  lived  here,  I'd  a  died  afore  I'd  a  tuck  a  crust 
from  you,  or  crossed  the  threshold  o'  his  door.  I 
was  so  weak  an'    faint    night    afore  las',    I    hardly 


If  Thine  Enemy   Hunger  197 

knowed  where  I  was  at,  an'  I  ain't  right  well  ac- 
quainted over  here  anyhow.  I  knowed  I  mus'  be 
nigh  the  Hansons,  an'  I  didn't  dast  to  go  there.  I 
tried  to  git  two  miles  furder  to  where  1  know  some 
folks  that  would  have  taken  care  o'  me.  I  knowed 
they'd  see  me  five  miles  furder  an'  at  home  as  soon 
as  I  could  go.  But  I  give  out,  an'  had  to  stop. 
I'd  a  died  afore  I'  a  taken  a  pinch  o'  yer  salt.  But 
that  can't  be  helped  now.  As  to  yer  boy,  I've 
swore  to  God  I'll  kill  him  when  I  see  him,  an'  I 
never  broke  no  promise  I  ever  made,  an'  I  hain't 
a-goin'  to  break  one  I  swear  to." 

Weak  as  he  was  his  cheek  flushed.  He  gathered 
strength  and  started  toward  the  road.  Elizabeth 
ran  back  into  the  house  and  pulled  up  a  loose  board 
in  the  floor.  From  a  hiding-place  below  she  drew 
out  Jack's  long  gun  that  had  been  his  father's.  Sam 
was  out  of  the  yard,  and  starting  weakly  down  the 
road  when  she  got  to  the  fence,  and  levelled  the  gun 
across  it. 

"  Stop  !  "  she  cried. 

He  stopped  and  turned  back. 

"  Sam  Marshall,"  she  cried,  "  ef  I'd  a  knowed 
you  was  the  man  ye  be,  I  don'  know  whether  I'd 
a  let  ye  die  on  my  step  or  not.  But  one  thing  I 
know.  No  man  is  a-goin'  out  o'  this  yard  alive 
a-swearin'  to  kill  my  boy.  I've  give  my  only  son 
to  this  war.  I've  put  him  where  he  has  to  stand 
an'  be  shot  at  by  men  sech  as  you.  I've  seed  him 
right  under  the  shadder  of  the  gallows  for  the  love 
he  has  for  the  flag,  and  the  love  his  mother  has  that 
let  him  fight  for  it.  An'  now,  Sam  Marshall,  as 
God's  in  heaven  above  us,  ef  you  don't  take  back 


198  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

that  wicked  oath,  an'  promise  that  if  ever  ye  see 
my  boy  in  trouble  you'll  do  for  him  what  I've  done 
for  you,  then  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  yer  heart, 
and  God  judge  between  you  an'  the  mother  that 
kills  ye  to  keep  ye  from  murderin'  her  boy !  " 

Sam  Marshall  was  no  coward,  but  there  are  few 
men  who  face  certain  death  in  passion  without  wav- 
ering.    A  moment  he  hesitated. 

"  Speak  quick  !  "  she  cried,  and  she  raised  the  ham- 
mer of  the  gun. 

"Let  me  think,"  he  asked.  "  It's  a  mighty  hard 
thing  to  decide." 

"  Say  quick  what  yer  goin'  to  do !"  she  cried,  and 
he  heard  the  click  as  she  set  the  double  trigger. 

"I'll  promise,"  said  he,  "I'll  never  do  yer  boy 
no  harm  ef  I  can  help  it,  doin'  my  duty." 

"  You'll  be  a  friend  to  him  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  God  help  me  !  " 

"Then  go,"  she  said;  "an'  ef  you  ever  break 
this  promise  that  ye  make  to-day,  a  mother's  curse 
and  the  blood  of  a  murdered  son  rest  on  your  soul 
forever." 

She  lowered  the  hammer  of  the  rifle  and  returned 
to  the  house,  and  Sam  Marshall  walked  feebly  down 
the  road  and  was  lost  to  sight. 


XVII 
Parson    Brownlow's    Release 

WHAT  are  you  doing  there,  you  villain  ?  " 
demanded  Parson  Brownlow  through 
the  bars. 

"  Washin'  my  face.      Didn't  ye  think 
hit  would  look  purtier  ef  hit  was  washed  ?  " 

"It  was  black  enough,  but  your  soul  is  blacker. 
Don't  you  know  that  we  have  to  drink  the  water 
from  that  hogshead  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I'll  have  you  to  know  that  the  water 
where  a  Jeff  Davis  soldier  washes  his  face  is  plenty 
good  enough  for  any  Lincoln  screamer  or  bridge- 
burner  to  drink  !  "  replied  the  soldier. 

"  The  time  will  come,"  retorted  Brownlow,  "  when 
you  will  lift  up  your  eyes  in  hell,  being  tormented 
in  the  flame,  and  will  plead  for  a  drop  of  water  on 
the  tip  of  your  tongue  !  " 

There  was  no  wav  to  remedy  the  abuse  but  by 
protest.  Parson  Brownlow  was  capable  of  so  vigor- 
ous a  use  of  the  English  tongue  as  to  be  a  terror 
to  evil-doers,  even  when  in  full  power.  He  had, 
moreover,  the  ability  when  he  was  righteously  in- 
dignant, to  use  Scripture  in  a  way  that  added  to  its 
sanctity  all  the  effectiveness  of  ordinary  profanity. 
Thus  he  kept  up  the  spirits  of  the  prisoners,  and 
soon  proved  a  white  elephant  on  the  hands  of  the 
prison  authorities. 

199 


200  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

Moreover,  he  got  access  to  the  papers,  and  pub- 
lished far  and  wide  the  fact  that  he  had  returned 
to  Knoxville  under  the  written  promise  of  General 
Crittenden,  by  authority  of  Secretary  Benjamin,  that 
he  should  have  a  pass  out  of  the  Confederacy.  He 
did  not  choose  with  any  misguided  notion  of  respect 
for  those  in  authority,  the  words  in  which  he  charged 
the  Confederate  government  with  breach  of  faith  in 
the  matter.  General  Crittenden  felt  the  force  of 
these  charges  against  his  honor,  and  so  did  the  Con- 
federate secretary  of  war.  Moreover,  Brownlow 
dipped  his  pen  in  the  gall  of  his  most  biting  sarcasm, 
and  published  articles  which  represented  him  as 
rather  enjoying  an  experiment  which  his  imprison- 
ment permitted  him  to  make.  He  was  anxious  to 
know,  he  said,  which  was  the  higher  authority  in 
the  Confederacy,  the  secretary  of  war  and  a  major 
general  on  the  one  hand,  or  a  dirty  little  drunken 
attorney,  such  as  the  man  who  had  caused  his  im- 
prisonment. He  wrote  as  much  to  Secretary  Ben- 
jamin at  Richmond,  and  added, — 

"  Just  give  me  my  passports,  and  I  will  do  for 
your  Confederacy  more  than  the  devil  has  ever  done, 
—  I  will  quit  the  country!" 

At  times  Brownlow,  whose  health  suffered  in  jail, 
believed  that  he  would  die  in  prison,  and  at  other 
times  he  believed  that  he  would  certainly  be  hanged. 
He  composed  a  speech  to  be  delivered  under  the 
gallows,  and  afterward  published  it  as  a  statement  of 
his  principles. 

Secretary  Benjamin  was  a  good  deal  disturbed  by 
these  matters.  He  wrote  to  Knoxville  that  he  felt 
that  his  official  promise,  while  not  intended  to  be  a 


Parson   Brownlow's   Release  201 

protection  against  legal  action,  had  so  compromitted 
the  honor  of  the  Confederate  government  that  if 
Brownlow  should  be  convicted,  he  must  himself 
request  President  Davis  for  a  pardon.  It  was  use- 
less to  prosecute  Brownlow  after  that,  and  he  was 
released,  but  on  the  same  day  of  the  entering  of  the 
nolle  -prosequi  in  the  civil  court,  he  was  arrested  by 
the  military  authorities,  and  placed  under  double 
guard  in  his  own  house,  where  for  a  long  time  he 
was  sick,  and  under  the  authority  of  the  same 
Colonel  Leadbetter  v/ho  had  hanged  Hensie  and 
Fry,  and  whom  he  denounced  as  the  prince  of 
villains,  murderers,  and  tyrants.  In  the  middle  of 
February,  Leadbetter  was  superseded  by  Colonel 
Vance,  a  gentleman  of  high  character,  who  relieved 
him  from  most  of  the  annoyances  of  his  imprison- 
ment. It  was  well  for  Brownlow  that  this  change 
of  jurisdiction  came.  With  the  reverses  of  the  year, 
the  Confederate  soldiers  grew  almost  desperate.  It 
seemed  to  Brownlow  that  "  the  rebels  had  suddenly 
been  filled  with  the  malice  of  hell."  The  guard 
about  him  was  now  increased  to  ten  men,  no  longer 
to  confine,  but  to  protect  him. 

It  had  seemed  to  the  local  authorities  that  the 
imprisonment  of  Brownlow  was  a  necessity,  in  spite 
of  the  promise  of  the  Confederate  government. 
The  Knoxville  Register^  when  there  had  been  a 
prospect  of  his  release,  protested  against  the  action 
of  the  War  Department  at  Richmond  as  being 
"  worse  than  a  crime,  —  a  blunder."      It  said  : 

"  Brownlow  has  preached  at  every  church  and 
school-house,  made  stump  speeches  at  every  cross 
road,  and  knows  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  and 


202  A   Hero  in  Homespun 

their  fathers  and  grandfathers  before  them,  in  East 
Tennessee.  As  a  Methodist  circuit  rider,  a  poHtical 
stump  speaker,  a  temperance  orator,  and  the  editor 
of  a  newspaper,  he  has  been  equally  successful  in 
our  division  of  the  State. 

"  Let  him  but  once  reach  the  confines  of  Ken- 
tucky with  his  knowledge  of  the  geography  and 
population  of  East  Tennessee,  and  our  section  will 
soon  feel  the  effect  of  his  hard  blows.  From 
among  his  old  partisan  and  religious  sectarian  para- 
sites he  will  find  men  who  will  obey  him  with  the 
fanatical  alacrity  of  those  who  followed  Peter  the 
Hermit  in  the  First  Crusade.  We  repeat  again,  let 
us  not  underrate  Brownlow." 

Thus  the  local  authorities  held  Brownlow  against 
the  will  of  the  Confederate  government,  not  because 
they  wanted  him,  but  because  they  knew  the  loyalty 
of  East  Tennessee,  and  feared  to  allow  him  to 
depart.  Like  the  man  who  caught  the  bear  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  tree,  they  wanted  some  one  to 
help  them  to  let  go. 

After  a  double  defeat  of  the  Confederates  at  Mill 
Spring  and  Fort  Donelson,  when  the  town  was  filled 
with  flying  soldiers,  and  many  of  the  pronounced 
Confederate  sympathizers  of  the  town  were  hastily 
moving  south,  no  thought  of  prudence  restricted 
Brownlow's  joy.  He  reminded  the  rebels,  some  of 
whom  he  had  known,  that  they  had  boasted  of  their 
intention  to  "  die  in  the  last  ditch,"  and  he  compli- 
mented them  upon  the  eagerness  of  their  search  for 
the  ditch,  and  the  prospect  of  their  finding  it.  He 
expressed  his  estimate  of  the  courage  of  the  new 
troops,  who  from  time  to  time  were  passing  through 


Parson   Brownlow's   Release  203 

Knoxville  north,  and  waking  the  town  with  their 
hilarious  and  often  drunken  boasting,  that,  — 

"  A  company  of  them  can  demolish  any  unarmed 
woman  in  the  country  !  " 

On  Friday,  February  28,  appointed  by  Jefferson 
Davis  as  a  day  of  fasting,  humiliation,  and  prayer, 
Brownlow  applauded  the  appointment,  affirming 
that,  — 

"If  ever  a  set  of  men  needed  to  humble  them- 
selves before  God  and  confess  their  sins,  it  is  the 
men  associated  with  Jeff  Davis  in  this  infernal 
rebellion." 

This  became  intolerable.  On  Sunday,  March  2, 
Secretary  Benjamin  ordered  Major  Monserrat,  who 
had  succeeded  Colonel  Vance,  to  remove  Brownlow 
to  Kentucky,  and  that  officer  was  only  too  glad  to 
obey.  The  very  next  morning  he  started,  under  a 
guard  of  ten  men,  who  were  ordered  to  protect  him 
at  all  hazards,  and  to  treat  him  courteously  and 
kindly. 

Brownlow  had  no  little  difficulty  still  in  getting 
through  the  lines.  Both  Generals  A.  S.  Johnston 
and  Hardee  at  first  refused  to  honor  his  passes. 
The  truth  was  that  the  Confederates  were  then  in 
such  terror  that  they  dreaded  to  have  Brownlow's 
knowledge  of  their  weakness  and  confusion  taken  to 
the  Union  army.  But  the  two  weeks  that  he  was 
detained  at  Shelbyville  were  to  him  a  sort  of  ovation. 
The  Union  people  thronged  him,  the  women  sent 
him  flowers,  and  the  rebels  chafed  under  his  bitter 
words. 

It  was  hard  for  them  to  kick  against  the  pricks. 
They  dreaded   to   let   Brownlow   go.     They  dared 


204  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

not  wholly  disregard  the  authority  of  Richmond 
and  send  him  back,  and  they  could  not  forever 
keep  him  where  he  was,  Jonah  was  not  a  more 
uncomfortable  guest;  and  they  proceeded  to  throw 
him  overboard.  On  March  15,  they  sent  him 
under  escort  and  a  flag  of  truce,  and  soon  he  entered 
Nashville,  where  Andrew  Johnson  was  establishing 
the  military  government,  and  Buell  was  resting  after 
his  victories  and  planning  for  other  ones.  Brown- 
low  was  at  once  in  demand,  and  received  a  welcome 
that  a  king  might  have  counted  an  honor.  He  was 
eagerly  questioned  by  Buell  for  military  information, 
and  greeted  by  the  officers  and  men  of  the  Union 
army  with  every  token  of  affectionate  regard.  He 
was  called  from  his  room  in  the  St.  Cloud  Hotel  to 
address  the  crowd  that  thronged  the  space  below. 
That  his  right  hand  had  not  forgotten  its  cunning, 
and  that  his  tongue  was  as  vigorous  as  ever,  is  evi- 
denced by  his  own  report  of  his  speech  delivered  on 
that  occasion,  in  which  he  proposed  the  sentiment, 
"  Grape  for  the  rebel  masses,  and  hemp  for  their 
leaders !  " 


XVIII 

How  a  Woman  Saved  an  Army 

"ITH  the  coming  of  the  spring  of  1862, 
operations  began  against  Cumberland  Gap. 
General  Carter  had  held  on  all  winter  in 
the  face  of  great  discouragements.  General  George 
W.  Morgan  was  ordered  to  join  him  with  three 
additional  brigades,  and  advance  upon  the  almost 
impregnable  fastness,  then  often  spoken  of  as  the 
American  Gibraltar,  —  the  key  to  East  Tennessee. 
There  had  been  a  time,  just  after  the  battle  of  Mill 
Spring,  when  it  might  have  been  had  for  the  asking, 
if  any  strong  force  had  been  sent  against  it.  But 
the  delays  had  been  such  that  it  remained  now  the 
one  Confederate  foothold  in  Kentucky.  Garfield  had 
driven  Humphrey  Marshall  from  the  Big  Sandy ; 
Forts  Henry  and  Donelson  had  fallen,  and  with 
them  Nashville  had  surrendered ;  Island  Number 
10  had  been  given  up,  and  the  Mississippi  was 
open  to  Vicksburg ;  the  battle  of  Mill  Spring  had 
cleared  central  Kentucky  ;  and  the  only  point  in 
the  middle  West,  where  the  Confederate  line  bent 
to  the  north,  was  where  Union  sentiment  was 
strongest,  and  where  men  who  had  refused  all  pos- 
sible encouragement  to  join  the  Confederacy  were 
enduring  great  hardship  for  the  hope  of  fighting 
for  the  flag.  It  seemed  a  wrong  and  anomalous 
thing  that  such  should  be  the  case.     The  plan  which 

205 


2o6  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

Nelson  had  originated,  and  McClellan  had  approved, 
and  Thomas  had  been  eager  to  adopt,  and  Lincohi 
had  unceasingly  advocated,  the  plan  which  Carter 
had  waited  all  winter  to  start  in  motion,  seemed 
about  to  materialize  in  the  capture  of  the  Gap  and 
the  relief  of  East  Tennessee. 

General  Carter  wanted  a  man  for  extra-hazardous 
service.  He  sent  for  the  colonels  of  his  two  East 
Tennessee  regiments,  and  made  diligent  inquiry 
after  a  young  mountaineer  whom  he  remembered 
as  having  deserted  after  the  battle  of  Wild  Cat,  and 
who  had  rejoined  the  army  before  the  battle  of  Mill 
Spring,  It  was  found  after  some  inquiry  that  the 
man  he  sought  was  Jackson  Casey,  then  absent  on 
sick  leave,  but  reported  as  convalescent,  and  hkely 
soon  to  return. 

"  Where  is  this  man  Casey  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  At  Roundstone,  a  day's  ride  away,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Is  he  well  enough  to  travel  ?  " 

"  Captain  Cooper  has  word  that  he  is  ready  to 
return  when  needed." 

"  Good  !  Let  a  trusty  officer  be  detailed  to  con- 
vey a  message  to  him.  It  will  be  better  for  him 
not  to  return  to  camp." 

Late  that  night  an  officer  rode  up  to  the  Whitley 
home,  and  obtained  shelter  for  the  night.  Supper 
over,  he  drew  Jack  aside  and  communicated  his 
instructions.  He  was  to  secure  a  horse  and  ride  at 
once  into  Tennessee,  near  his  old  home,  and  direct 
a  body  of  men  who  were  preparing  to  leave  the 
State  to  unite  with  the  Union  army.  In  February, 
Governor  Harris  had  called  out  the  entire  militia 
force  of  the  State,  commanding  every  able-bodied 


How  a  Woman  Saved  an  Army  207 

man  between  eighteen  and  forty-five  to  join  the 
Confederate  army.  Large  numbers  of  Union  men, 
who  had  been  held  at  home  up  to  this  time,  finding 
that  they  must  fight  for  the  Confederacy  if  they 
remained,  were  planning  how  they  might  escape  to 
Kentucky.  A  band  of  several  hundred  was  forming 
in  Knox  and  Blount  counties,  as  General  Carter 
had  been  informed,  and  the  route  by  which  they 
were  planning  to  come,  following  up  the  valleys, 
was,  because  of  prospective  Confederate  movements, 
a  dangerous  one.  The  entire  party  was  liable  to  be 
captured  en  route. 

General  Carter,  himself  an  East  Tennesseean, 
counted  on  the  help  of  such  bodies  as  this  in  his 
operations  against  Cumberland  Gap,  and  wished 
to  afford  them  all  possible  assistance  in  joining  the 
Union  army;  but  he  felt  that  to  come  to  London 
at  that  juncture  would  be  extremely  dangerous,  and 
advised,  instead,  that  they  effect  a  union  with  the 
troops  stationed  at  Boston,  near  the  state  line,  in 
Whitley  County. 

Jack  proceeded  on  his  mission,  not  without  some 
uncertainty,  for  he  was  putting  his  head  within  the 
halter  again.  But  he  rejoiced  in  the  trust  confided 
to  him.  In  citizen's  clothes,  and  armed  only  with 
a  revolver  and  bowie  knife,  he  rode  out  of  Round- 
stone,  and  turned  through  Crank's  Gap  into  Vir- 
ginia, and  thence  into  Tennessee. 

Before  Jack  left  Roundstone,  Joe  Whitley  came 
home  for  a  few  days,  and  there  was  a  conference 
among  Eph  and  Joe  and  Jack  —  for  he  was  now 
taken  into  the  family  —  as  to  the  best  way  to  pro- 
vide for  Jennie,     With  the  news  of  Jack's  mission. 


ao8  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

a  way  seemed  to  open.  Jack  would  go  into  Ten- 
nessee, and  returning,  as  he  must  another  way  and  on 
foot,  would  leave  his  horse  with  his  mother,  and  start 
her  toward  Roundstone  to  stay  with  Jennie  for  the 
remainder  of  the  war.  This  provided  satisfactorily 
for  both,  and  Jack  was  glad  to  remove  his  mother 
from  the  scenes  in  which  she  was  living. 

Jack  passed  safely  and  without  undue  fatigue 
through  Crank's  Gap  and  over  into  the  corner  of 
Virginia.  He  was  about  crossing  into  Tennessee, 
when,  looking  down  the  narrow  road  before  him, 
he  saw  a  horseman  who  had  dismounted,  and  was 
examining  the  hoof  of  his  horse.  Jack  hesitated 
about  going  on,  but  it  was  not  easy  to  go  around, 
so  he  spurred  on,  and  soon  overtook  the  man. 
Though  he  was  in  citizen's  clothes  like  himself, 
Jack  easily  placed  the  man  as  a  soldier,  and  readily 
supposed  him  to  be  a  Confederate.  The  same  idea 
was  in  the  mind  of  each,  and  neither  stopped  to 
think  that  the  other  might  belong  to  the  Union 
army,  as  they  were  then  well  within  the  Confederate 
lines. 

Jack  saw  that  the  man  was  troubled. 

"  Howdy,  stranger,"  he  said.     "  In  a  hurry  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  said  Jack ;  "  but  I  ain't  used  to 
wastin'  much  time  when  I  want  to  git  somewhere." 

"  That's  the  way  with  me ;  but  I'm  sorter  in 
trovible." 

"What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  My  horse  lost  a  shoe  'bout  six  mile  back,  an' 
I  couldn't  find  no  place  to  git  him  shod.  I've  jes' 
had  to  ride  on  an'  now  he's  lame.  Look  at  that 
hoof  crack." 


How  a  Woman  Saved  an  Army  209 

"Mighty  bad,  ain't  it?  I  hope  you  warn't  in 
no  hurry  ?  " 

"Wall,  I  warn't  in  notearin'  hurry,  as  the  feller 
says,  but  1  was  sorter  anxious  to  git  on.  Stranger,, 
how'd  you  swap  horses  ?  " 

"  Same's  ef  you  didn't  have  none." 

"  Wall,, this  hain't  much  of  a  horse  jes'  now,  that's 
a  fact.  But  he's  a  mighty  good  one  when  he's 
shod.  I'll  give  ye  two  hundred  to  boot.  An' 
they  hain't  a  prettier  ridin'  nag  in  Kaintuck  than 
this  one." 

"  Looky  here,"  demanded  Jack,  "  I  wanter  know 
what  you're  in  sech  a  hurry  to  git  on  fur  ?  It 
looks  to  me  sorter  suspicious.  I've  got  an  idj 
you're  a  Union  spy,  tryin'  to  git  information  for 
the  Yanks." 

"  Wall,  stranger,  you're  shootin'  inter  the  wrong 
side  o'  the  tree,  that's  all.  Seein'  you're  on  the 
same  side,  an'  I'm  in  a  fix,  I'll  tell  ye  what.  I 
hain't  no  spy,  but  I'm  a  messenger,  an'  I've  got 
despatches  fur  Kirby  Smith.  Now  ef  you  got  the 
heart  of  a  Southern  gentleman,  I  know  you'll  let 
me  have  yer  horse." 

"  Not  by  a  jugful,"  said  Jack.  "  I've  got  some 
despatches  myself." 

"Wall,  le'  me  take  your  horse,  an'  I'll  deliver 
your  despatches." 

"  Not  much,"  said  Jack,  "  but  I'll  deliver  your'n." 

"  No,  I  couldn't  give  'em  up.  But  I'll  tell  you 
what,  I  mought  tell  you  what  I  know,  an'  ef  you 
git  through  afore  I  do,  you  kin  give  the  word. 
You  know  Morgan's  movin'  to  attack  Cumberland 
Gap,  an'  he's  sent  Spears  with  one  of  his  four  bri- 


2IO  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

gades  to  clar  out  Big  Creek  Gap.  Kirby's  got 
men  a-watchin'  on  him,  an'  has  been  a-gittin'  word 
every  day  how  the  work  was  gittin'  on,  an'  how 
fur  that  brigade  is  a-gittin'  from  the  main  body  at 
Cumberland  Ford.  The  word  I've  got  is  that  they 
hain't  right  sure  whether  Morgan  means  to  clar  that 
out  jes'  for  a  bluff,  or  whether  he  raley  intends  to 
leave  Cumberland  Gap  one  side  an'  come  through 
Big  Creek  Gap.  Anyhow,  they  allow  that  the  work 
is  mighty  nigh  done.  He's  got  the  obstructions 
mighty  nigh  clared  out,  an'  is  as  fur  from  Morgan's 
main  army  as  he's  a-goin'  to  git.  Either  he'll  go 
back  right  soon  now  to  the  Ford  with  the  rest,  or 
the  rest  will  come  up  to  whar  he  is.  An'  the  word 
I've  got  is,  that  now's  the  time  for  Smith  to  slip 
through  Woodson's  Gap,  and  cut  off  Spears'  bri- 
gade as  he  goes  back  through  Big  Creek  Gap,  an' 
he  kin  bag  the  hull  brigade  without  encounterin' 
Morgan's  main  army  at  all.     That's  the  word." 

"  I'll  hurry  on  an'  take  it,"  said  Jack.  "  Don' 
you  reckon  you  best  le'  me  take  the  papers  ?  Kirby 
may  want  them." 

"  Wall,  I  donno  but  I  best.  Wait  till  I  pull  off 
my  boot.  No,  I  don'  guess  I  best  give  up  the 
papers.  But  that's  the  hull  o'  the  message,  I  know. 
I  wisht  you'd  le'  me  take  your  horse." 

"  Cain't  do  that,"  said  Jack  ;  "  but  you  needn't 
a'hurry  with  your  lame  horse.  I'll  take  the  word  all 
right." 

Then  Jack  turned  toward  home,  and  hastened 
with  all  his  might.  That  evening  he  pulled  up  at 
the  house  of  Steph  Crowell. 

"  Steph,  Steph  !     Hello,  Steph  !  " 


How  a  Woman  Saved  an  Army  211 

Steph  came  to  the  door. 

"  Howdy,  Jack,  howdy !  "  Then  correcting 
himself  he  said,  "  No,  hit  tain't  Jack.  I  was  mis- 
takened.  I  don'  wanter  testify  that  I've  seed  Jack 
Casey  round  here  in  citizen's  clothes.  You  resem- 
blify  Jack  Casey  powerful,  as  the  feller  said,  but  I 
see  ye  hain't.     How  ye  ben  .?  " 

"  Right  pert.    But,  Steph,  I  want  to  swap  horses." 

"  I'm  allers  willin'  fur  a  good  trade.  Wut'll  ye 
give  to  boot  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  say,  Steph,  an'  I'll  see  that  you 
git  the  money,  but  I  ain't  got  it  with  me.  But  I 
mus'  have  a  fraish  horse  right  off." 

"  I  reckon  that  would  be  a  right  good  beast 
you're  ridin'  ef  he  warn't  so  used  up." 

"  He's  a  fine  animal.  I  never  straddled  a  better 
one.  But  I've  rode  hard.  Fetch  out  your'n,  an' 
fetch  him  over  to  the  house  while  I  ride  over  an' 
see  ma  a  minute." 

"  Meanin'  over  to  Mis'  Casey's.''  I'll  come  over 
in  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  I  reckon  though,  ef  the 
hoss  is  a-goin'  to  travel  to-night,  I  best  feed  him 
fust.     I'll  come  over  half  a  hour  atter  you  git  than" 

Jack  hastened  home  and  found  his  mother.  Glad 
enough  was  she  to  see  him,  but  she  repressed  her 
eagerness  to  question  her  son  about  himself  when 
she  saw  that  he  had  a  message  for  her. 

"  Quick,  ma  !  Git  yerself  somethin'  to  eat,  an'  git 
ready  to  ride.  I  want  ye  to  go  through  the  moun- 
tains to-night  and  take  a  message  to  Cumberland 
Ford." 

She  lost  no  time  in  discussion,  but  hastily  pre- 
pared the  last  meal  they  were  to  eat  together,  while 


212  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

he  told  her  his  message.  The  word  about  the  army- 
was  told  in  detail  and  repeated  caretully,  that  there 
could  be  no  mistake.  He  also  told  her  minutely 
about  the  way  that  she  must  go,  the  mountain  paths, 
the  passes  through  the  ridges,  the  best  places  to  ford 
streams,  and  much  more,  but  this  she  knew  almost 
as  well  as  he.  The  matter  of  her  home  at  Round- 
stone  was  told  in  less  detail,  but  she  accepted  it,  not 
without  a  heart-throb  at  leaving  the  home  that  had 
been  hers,  but  without  protest. 

She  gathered  into  a  reticule  some  things  which 
she  wished  to  take  with  her,  having  respect  to  the 
necessity  for  light  travel  and  haste,  and  Jack  agreed 
to  see  that  the  rest  of  the  family  belongings  of  value 
were  stored  in  the  cave. 

By  this  time  Steph  was  at  the  door,  and  Jack  and 
his  mother  went  out  together. 

"If  you  don'  mind,  Steph,  I'll  ride  as  far  as  your 
house  with  mother,  and  leave  this  horse  at  your  door. 
Thank  you,  old  friend." 

"  Good-by,  stranger,  I  hope  ye  won't  regret  yer 
swap.  You  do  favor  Jack  Casey  more'n  ever  I 
seed  two  men  favor  each  other.  Good-by,  Mis' 
Casey.  I  hope  ye'll  have  a  good  ride,  wherever 
you're  goin'." 

"  Good-by,  Steph.     And  God  bless  ye." 

At  Steph's  gate  Jack  kissed  his  mother  and  tied 
his  horse,  and  then  went  to  the  house  to  rest  that 
night  and  be  off  with  the  dawn,  hindered  hardly 
an  hour  by  the  task  of  secreting  the  property. 

Thus  Elizabeth  Casey  started  on  her  perilous  ride 
in  the  night  to  save  the  Union  army  from  the  raid 
of  General  Kirby  Smith.      It  was  a  long,  dark  ride. 


How  a  Woman  Saved  an  Army  213 

The  woods  were  full  of  dangers,  seen  and  unseen. 
The  roads  were  wretched,  and  in  places  she  had  to 
ride  where  there  were  no  roads.  She  was  turning 
her  back  upon  her  life-long  home,  and  parting  again 
with  her  son,  perhaps  forever,  but  her  heart  was 
brave   and   her  purpose   true. 

Who  shall  record  the  heroic  deeds  of  women  in  the 
Civil  War  ?  Poets  sing  the  fame  of  the  general  who 
rides  from  afar  to  save  the  day,  but  how  few  know 
the  tale  of  the  noble  woman  of  East  Tennessee, 
who,  mounted  on  the  horse  that  her  son  had 
brought,  rode  through  the  darkness  and  the  wil- 
derness, through  swollen  streams  and  hostile  camps, 
where  no  man  could  have  ridden  unhalted,  and 
brought  the  warning  that  saved  from  capture  a 
whole  brigade !  The  government  was  appealed 
to  later,  to  make  some  fitting  testimonial  in  honor 
of  the  brave  deed,  but  nothing  came  of  it.  Yet 
General  Morgan  gratefully  records  that  what  saved 
the  command  of  General  Spears,  as  he  was  clear- 
ing the  way  for  the  approach  to  Cumberland  Gap, 
was  the  heroic  ride  of  that  brave  woman,  who  had 
already  given  her  son,  and  now  risked  her  life 
besides. 

They  tell  wonderful  tales  of  that  ride,  all  through 
the  Cumberland  Mountains :  how  she  galloped  down 
a  road  that  was  held  by  the  rebels,  and  when  the 
sentinel  called  his  "  Halt !  Who  goes  there  ? " 
answered,  "  A  woman,  and  I  won't  halt,"  and 
dashed  by  him,  knowing  that  he  would  not  fire 
upon  a  woman ;  how  she  urged  her  horse  up  a 
rocky  slope  where  never  horse  had  carried  a  human 
soul,  and  where,  as  they  verily  believe,  only  special 


214  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

Providential  intervention  saved  her  from  certain 
death ;  how  she  forded  streams  that  were  swimming 
deep,  and  came  through  dry,  as  the  IsraeHtes  passed 
through  the  sea  ;  how  once  her  horse  fell  beneath 
her  on  the  edge  of  an  abyss,  but  she  rose  unharmed 
and  mounted  and  rode  on  again,  the  horse  seeming 
to  gather  strength  and  courage  from  her  own  in- 
domitable will,  —  these  and  a  score  of  other  inci- 
dents they  relate  of  that  ride  of  a  heroine  to  save  an 
army. 

The  day  was  breaking  as  she  stopped  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain  that  separates  Kentucky  from 
Tennessee,  and  sat  for  a  moment  to  rest  her  pant- 
ing horse  after  the  climb,  silhouetted  against  the  sky 
that  was  lighting  with  the  dawn.  Just  as  the  sun 
was  rising  she  stopped  for  a  half  hour  to  feed  her 
horse  and  remove  her  saddle,  and  then  was  riding 
on  again.  The  sun  rose  to  the  meridian  and  began 
to  decline,  but  her  hand  still  held  the  rein,  and  the 
faithful  horse  moved  on. 

That  afternoon  there  came  riding  around  the 
clean-cut  end  of  Pine  Mountain  where  the  Cumber- 
land has  sawn  it  through,  a  mud-bespattered  horse, 
and  a  tired  but  trmmphant  woman,  bearing  word  to 
General  Morgan  of  the  danger  awaiting  Spears' 
brigade. 

Messengers  were  sent  out.  The  brigade  was 
recalled.  And  when,  next  day,  Kirby  Smith  passed 
through  Woodson's  Gap,  and  with  a  swoop  like  that 
of  an  eagle  descended  upon  the  valley  where  Spears' 
brigade  had  been,  the  prey  had  taken  its  flight,  and 
the  Confederate  army  returned  from  a  bootless 
journey. 


XIX 

The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County 

FOR  several  days  in  April  a  number  of  men  were 
at  work  steadily  and  stealthily  in  the  woods 
on  the  bank  of  the  Clinch  River  about  twenty 
miles  north  of  Knoxville,  building  a  boat 
which  might  ferry  seventy-five  men  across  the  river 
at  once.  Having  completed  their  task,  they  hid  the 
craft  in  the  woods,  to  prevent,  if  possible,  the  rebel 
pickets  from  finding  it  until  it  should  have  served 
its  end. 

On  the  night  of  the  anniversary  of  the  ride  of 
Paul  Revere,  Jack  Casey  made  his  way  to  this  boat 
and  waited  for  company.  A  group  of  seventy-five 
men,  largely  from  the  vicinity  of  Knoxville,  who  had 
rendezvoused  at  Bull  Run  Creek,  first  appeared,  and 
rejoiced  to  find  the  boat  in  possession  of  its  friends. 
They  were  gotten  on  board  at  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  set  ashore  on  the  opposite 
side.  The  boat  returned  for  another  company 
that  had  appeared,  and  the  first,  who  had  already 
marched  twenty  miles  in  the  rain,  unslung  their 
haversacks,  and  sat  down  to  rest.  Before  the  boat 
returned  they  were  alarmed  by  the  cry  that  the 
rebel  cavalry  were  after  them,  and  hastily  formed  in 
line,  placing  in  front  the  men,  less  than  one-third 
of  their  number,  who  had  been  able  to  secure  any 
kind  of  weapon.     It  proved  a  false  alarm.     The  two 

215 


2i6  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

horsemen  who  approached  were  friends,  coming  to 
guide  them  until  dayhght.  Three  hundred  thus 
crossed  that  night,  and  seventy -five,  comprising 
another  company,  were  captured  in  their  attempt  to 
reach  the  rendezvous.  These,  with  four  hundred 
others,  captured  the  preceding  day,  were  taken 
south,  and  then  given  their  choice  of  imprisonment 
or  of  enhstment  in  the  Confederate  army. 

At  ahnost  every  house,  as  they  marched  by,  a 
man  would  come  out  and  silently  join  the  column. 
The  men  as  they  passed  saw  many  a  sorrowful 
silhouette  in  the  doorways,  many  a  fond  farewell,  as 
fathers  and  husbands  and  sons  stood  for  a  moment 
on  the  threshold  with  arms  about  their  loved  ones, 
and  then  hurried  out  in  silence  to  join  the  company, 
which  now  about  held  its  own  in  numbers  ;  for  while 
many  joined  its  ranks,  some  who  could  not  keep  up, 
and  were  already  wearied  with  the  march  and  chilled 
with  the  rain,  gave  out,  and  dropped  into  some  hos- 
pitable cabin  by  the  way. 

When  daybreak  came,  they  could  go  no  farther. 
They  found  a  secluded  place  in  the  hills,  and,  first 
eating  a  meal  from  their  haversacks,  threw  them- 
selves, wet  as  they  were,  and  without  shelter  from 
the  rain,  upon  the  sodden  earth,  A  few  acted  as 
sentinels,  and  these,  in  two  hours,  woke  the  entire 
company,  bringing  in  a  man  whom  they  had  capt- 
ured, who  professed  to  be  a  rebel,  but  who  talked 
so  confusedly  that  they  could  make  little  of  what 
he  said.  They  took  him  for  a  spy,  and  hastened 
on,  commanding  him  to  stay  with  them  on  pain  of 
being  shot.  It  appeared  in  time  that  their  prisoner 
was  really  a  Union  man,  who,  having  been  captured 


The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County     217 

by  the  Confederates  and  escaped,  had  come  among 
them  by  accident  after  a  night  of  wandering,  and 
fearing  them  to  be  enemies,  and  being  greatly  per- 
turbed, made  the  confused  answers  which  had  so 
frightened  them.  But  they  did  not  learn  this  for 
some  hours,  which  was  well  for  them.  The  cavalry 
were  in  hot  pursuit,  and  arrived  at  their  brief  resting- 
place  an  hour  only  after  they  had  left.  But  for 
their  false  alarm  and  utmost  haste,  they  would  all 
have  been  captured. 

The  men  had  no  commander,  but  trusted  to  their 
guides.  Jack  had  brought  general  information  con- 
cerning the  route  that  must  be  chosen,  but  at  dif- 
ferent points  they  followed  the  lead  of  individual 
members  of  the  party,  who  knew  in  detail  some 
portions  of  the  way,  and  at  times  they  found  ready 
guides  in  loyal  men  through  whose  neighborhood 
they  passed.  They  saw  few  houses,  however,  and 
marched  all  day  without  another  halt  for  rest. 

When  it  had  grown  dark,  and  they  had  now  been 
tramping  for  twenty-four  hours  with  only  two  hours' 
rest.  Jack  called  a  halt,  and  there  was  no  one  to 
question  his  authority,  nor  did  any  wish  so  to 
do.  They  were  miles  from  any  human  habitation. 
The  deep  ravine  in  which  they  huddled  together 
seemed  in  the  darkness  and  rain  a  haunted  place. 
They  ate  a  supper  from  their  long-soaked  haver- 
sacks, and  lay  down  on  the  wet  ground,  in  a  pouring 
rain,  to  spend  a  night  in  what  they  ever  afterward 
called  "  Camp  Misery." 

Still  the  enemy  followed  them,  being  baffled  only 
by  their  choosing  a  way  so  rough  as  to  be  imprac- 
ticable for  cavalry,  and  night  by  night  they  stopped 


21 8  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

to  rest  a  few  miles  nearer  the  land  that  was  sheltered 
by  the  Union  flag.  After  five  days  of  marching, 
they  passed  through  Scott  County,  which  adjoins 
the  Kentucky  line,  and  were  stopped  for  a  time  early 
in  the  morning  by  the  swelling  of  New  River,  but 
found  after  an  hour  of  search  one  small  canoe.  It 
would  not  ferry  over  the  men,  but  it  would  take  in 
a  few  trips  their  precious  firearms.  A  single  cabin 
was  in  sight  on  the  other  side,  but  not  a  soul  could 
be  seen.  The  men  loaded  their  guns  into  the  canoe, 
and  themselves  plunged  into  the  water.  On  the 
other  side  they  reclaimed  their  arms,  and,  in  doing 
so,  accidentally  discharged  a  gun.  Then  suddenly 
life  appeared  in  the  cabin.  A  man  ran  to  the  barn, 
mounted  a  horse,  and  rode  off  at  all  speed,  to  warn 
the  neighbors  that  the  rebels  were  coming. 

They  ascended  the  river  bank  to  the  cabin,  and 
found,  as  they  had  suspected,  that  the  warning  con- 
veyed by  the  horseman  had  been  of  the  supposed 
approach  of  the  rebels,  and  that  the  "jay-hawking" 
might  now  be  looked  for  at  every  foot  of  the  way. 
This  information  was  given  with  evident  satisfaction 
by  a  resolute  and  toothless  old  woman,  with  a  snufF- 
stick  between  her  gums, 

"  But  we  hain't  rebs.  We're  fur  the  Union,"  said 
the  men, 

"  Be  ye  Union,  shore  enough  ? "  asked  the  woman, 
removing  her  snuff-stick. 

"  Yes,  we're  Union,  every  man  of  us,  an'  we're 
goin'  over  into  Whitley  to  fight  for  Lincoln." 

"  Laws  a  massy  !  An'  them  men'll  be  a-shootin' 
on  ye  every  mile  o'  the  way  from  here  to  Kaintuck! 
Here,  Marthy  !   Marthy  !     You  run  up  the  branch 


The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County     219 

an'  holler  to  Sue  and  Peggy  !  Tell  'em  to  come 
right  off!" 

A  tall,  long-limbed  girl  of  sixteen  answered  the 
behest,  and  in  ten  minutes  there  were  four  women 
at  the  house  :  the  old  woman,  the  young  girl,  and 
two  neighbors. 

Meantime  the  old  woman  went  into  the  house 
and  got  a  red  shawl.  With  a  needle  she  quickly 
basted  some  stripes  of  white  cotton  on  one  side, 
and  mounted  it  to  a  sapling  which  one  of  the  sol- 
diers cut  at  her  command.  It  was  ready  by  the 
time  the  women  were  on  hand. 

"  Gals,"  she  said,  "  these  men  is  Union,  an'  our 
men  thinks  they're  rebs.  They  don't  know  one 
man  from  another,  the  men  don't,  an'  they'll  shoot 
'em,  sure's  yer  horned.  But  they  won't  shoot 
women.  We  gotter  go  ahead  an'  keep  the  men 
from  shootin',  till  they  find  out  who  they  be." 

The  Tennesseeans  recognized  the  propriety  of 
accepting  some  such  offer.  They  were  dealing  with 
men  who  were  not  accustomed  to  be  trifled  with, 
and  who  would  stop  to  ask  no  questions  before 
shooting.  That  they  were  coming  from  the  south, 
without  warning,  ^2j&  prima  facie  evidence  that  they 
were  rebels,  and  they  would  meet  a  warm  reception 
from  the  men  of  Scott  County.  They  were  an  odd 
lot,  old  men  and  boys  for  the  most  part,  too  old  or 
too  young  to  be  drafted,  and  with  certain  rough 
and  ready  ideas  about  the  value  of  human  life,  and 
the  best  way  of  settling  difficulties.  They  lived  in 
that  border  county,  and  built  their  stills  on  the 
state  line,  and  settled  questions  of  jurisdiction  at 
long  range.     They  were  steady  of  nerve,  and  not 


110  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

over  tender  of  conscience,  and  they  could  see  from 
behind  a  rock  a  man  whom  they  beheved  a  rebel,  and 
could  watch  his  approach,  as  he  appeared  above  the 
sights  on  the  two  ends  of  the  four  feet  barrel  of  their 
mountain  guns,  and  then,  when  the  blade  on  the  muz- 
zle just  filled  to  a  hair  the  slot  in  the  hindsight,  they 
could  press  the  hair  trigger  with  the  steadiest  nerve, 
—  those  Scott  County  bushwhackers !  But  they 
were  loyal,  every  man  of  them,  and  the  strong  men 
having  gone  to  war  and  left  the  old  men  and  boys  to 
defend  the  women  and  the  homes,  that  was  the  way 
they  did  it.  And  they  were  a  terror  to  evil-doers 
all  the  way  from  Pine  Knot  to  Brimstone  Creek. 

Never  did  an  army  have  a  better  advance  guard, 
or  one  that  promised  more  for  its  safety  than  that 
which  the  old  woman  organized  on  the  north  shore 
of  New  River  on  that  April  day.  The  sun  was  be- 
ginning to  shine,  and  the  dingy  green  of  approach- 
ing spring  was  on  the  hilltops.  The  season  seemed 
to  have  changed  in  a  day  from  the  dearth  and  cold 
of  winter  to  the  almost  realized  promise  of  spring. 
And  this  was  gladdening  the  hearts  of  the  men, 
whose  every  mile  hitherto,  and  every  night  of  rest 
until  the  last,  had  been  passed  in  a  constant  rain. 
And  best  of  all  was  this  reception  by  a  people  who 
were  near  enough  the  protection  of  the  Union  arms 
to  come  out  openly  and  be  their  friends. 

"  Toe  the  mark,  here !  "  called  the  old  woman  to 
her  three  companions.  The  four  women  marched 
abreast,  waving  the  flag,  and  talking  or  singing  as 
they  walked.  The  men  followed  a  short  distance 
behind  them,  and  stepped  with  new  alacrity,  and 
filled  the  road  from  side  to  side,  for  a  long  distance. 


The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County.      Page  221, 


The  Plucky  Women  of  Scott  County     221 

At  each  house  they  passed,  the  women  stopped 
and  called  out  other  women,  until  there  were  a 
dozen  of  them,  and  as  they  approached  places 
which  they  knew  were  favorable  to  ambush,  they 
called  laughingly,  — 

"  Shoot,  ef  ye  wanter  !  We're  a-comin'  !  Don't 
we  look  lack  rebs  ?  " 

Soon  men,  who  were  hiding  beside  the  road,  stood 
up  and  let  down  the  hammers  of  their  guns,  and 
joined  the  procession.  When  some  of  the  women 
had  to  drop  out  and  return,  their  places  had  been 
taken  in  advance  by  others,  and  at  no  time  during 
the  day,  after  the  number  reached  its  full,  were  there 
less  than  a  dozen  in  the  lead.  The  warning  had 
gone  a  matter  of  six  miles,  as  one  neighbor  had  sent 
the  news  ahead  to  another.  But  for  the  whole  fif- 
teen miles  from  New  River  to  the  state  line,  the 
loyal  women  of  Scott  County  led  the  way  with 
cheering  and  with  song.  Behind  them  came  the 
men  of  Scott,  and  behind  these  came  the  heroes 
of  the  parade,  the  men  from  Knox  and  Blount, 
who  were  going  to  fight  for  the  flag. 

When  any  of  the  women  turned  back  to  go  to 
their  homes,  as  they  did  from  time  to  time  in 
groups  of  two  and  three,  the  men  cheered  them, 
all  down  the  line,  and  waved  their  hats  and  kissed 
their  hands.  Just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  they 
passed  over  the  state  line  and  entered  the  camp  at 
Boston.  The  soldiers  saw  them  coming,  and  received 
them  with  open  ranks,  cheering  the  hardy  men  of 
Tennessee  and  the  plucky  women  of  the  good  old 
county  of  Scott. 


XX 

The  Capture  of  Cumberland  Gap 

UMBERLAND  GAP,  an  almost  impreg- 
nable natural  fortress,  had  been  greatly 
strengthened  by  the  Confederates  during 
their  occupancy.  Morgan  found  that  he 
could  approach  the  Gap,  but  that  his  force  was 
insufficient  to  capture  it  by  assault,  especially  with 
the  sudden  activity  of  Kirby  Smith  on  his  flank. 
Smith  was  drawn  off  toward  Chattanooga  by  a 
diversion  of  Buell  at  Morgan's  request,  but  Buell 
sent  word  to  Morgan,  on  the  loth  of  June,  that  he 
must  depend  upon  his  own  resources,  and  look  for 
no  further  aid  from  the  main  army  ;  moreover  that 
Buell  contemplated  larger  operations,  which  might 
be  seriously  injured  by  any  failure  of  Morgan,  who 
therefore  had  better  attempt  no  offensive  measures. 

But  the  hard-worked  soldiers,  who  had  spent 
weeks  of  labor  in  cutting  roads,  in  hauling  cannon 
by  hand  over  the  Pine  and  Cumberland  mountains, 
who  had  lived  for  months  on  the  hope  of  an  attack 
upon  the  Gap,  would  hear  to  no  word  of  remaining 
longer  upon  the  defensive.  At  one  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  June  i8  the  command  started  for- 
ward, in  two  parallel  columns  of  two  brigades  each, 
over  roads  that  they  had  cut  either  out  of  the 
virgin  forest,  or  through  the  obstructions  which 
the  Confederates  had  thrown  across  them.     It  was 


The  Capture  of  Cumberland   Gap  223 

a  high  day  with  them  all.  They  were  advancing 
almost  against  orders,  and  their  right  to  the  attempt 
was  to  be  demonstrated  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 
They  had  waited  too  long  for  this  day  not  to  greet 
it  with  enthusiasm. 

They  made  a  brief  halt  for  breakfast  as  they 
entered  the  valley  of  Yellow  Creek.  Their  hearts 
beat  high,  and  they  were  confident  and  eager.  In 
the  midst  of  the  meal,  a  Union  man  rode  among 
them  with  the  news  that  the  rebels  were  retreating 
before  them.  They  had  looked  for  a  desperate 
battle.  To  win  the  Gap  without  a  fight  was  news 
too  good  to  be  true,  and  almost  too  good  to  be 
desired.  The  advance  was  sounded.  The  meal 
was  left  half  eaten.  The  army  was  in  motion 
again,  up  the  valley  of  Yellow  Creek.  Along  the 
way  they  found  evidence  that  they  had  been  told 
the  truth.  They  came  to  the  outposts  and  found 
them  deserted.  Up  the  slope  they  came  to  a 
masked  battery,  and  found  its  guns  spiked.  They 
rushed  up  the  road,  where  the  rocks  slope  like  the 
roof  of  a  house.  They  pushed  past  each  other 
in  their  eagerness.  They  left  the  road  and  went 
scrambling  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  No 
orders  could  restrain  them.  No  discipline  could 
hold  them  back.  They  were  thirsty,  and  passed  a 
spring,  many  of  them  without  stopping  to  drink. 
They  had  no  breath  to  cheer,  but  they  climbed 
with  grip  and  nail. 

The  advance  reached  the  great  saddle,  and  met 
the  advance  from  the  two  brigades  approaching  from 
the  other  road.  They  joined  in  a  cheer  which  was 
caught  up  below  and  echoed  hoarsely  from  thou- 


224  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

sands  of  parched  throats.  Up  the  steep  they 
crowded,  companies  all  broken,  Hnes  all  disregarded, 
the  flags  ahead,  and  the  strongest  of  limb  and  pur- 
pose hard  after  them.  They  paused  for  breath  in 
the  Gap,  and  for  a  swallow  of  water  at  the  spring,^ 
from  which  no  thirsty  soul  could  drink  without  grati- 
tude to  the  good  God  who  made  it  there,  and  most 
were  content  to  stop.  But  after  an  interval  of  rest 
a  group  of  the  bravest  started  up  the  slope  on  the 
steeper  side,  above  the  Gap.  A  color-sergeant  be- 
longing to  De  Courcey's  brigade,  which  had  entered 
the  Gap  from  the  other  side,  saw  the  movement,  but 
was  too  exhausted  to  go  farther. 

"  Give  me  your  flag  !  "  cried  Jack. 

"  Place  it  on  the  very  top ! "  cried  the  color- 
bearer. 

Up,  up  the  steep  path  they  went,  already  tired, 
but  all  eager  to  be  first  upon  the  summit,  a  hun- 
dred, perhaps,  of  the  foremost,  who  were  sighing  for 
more  worlds  to  conquer.  Their  companions  still 
arriving  in  the  Gap,  and  the  officers  who  were  stand- 
ing a  little  apart  with  their  field-glasses,  watched 
with  interest  from  below.  Jack  looked  down  and 
saw  the  cloud  of  witnesses,  and  it  put  fresh  enthu- 
siasm into  him.  He  pressed  on,  passing  one  and 
another,  until  there  were  hardly  more  than  a  dozen 
ahead,  and  they  were  almost  at  the  top.  At  that 
moment  a  brawny  fellow,  who  was  in  the  lead, 
glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  saw  Jack  struggling 
up.  He  stopped  and  wheeled  about,  and  halted 
those  who  followed  him  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 
He  caught  his  breath  enough  to  speak  by  the  time 

^  This  fine  spring  has  been  ruined  by  the  blasting  of  the  tunnel  beneath  the  Gap. 


The  Capture  of  Cumberland  Gap         225 

Jack  came  panting  to  the  place  where  he  and  his 
comrade  stood. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  the  strapping  fellow  to  those  ahead 
of  Jack.     "  Stop,  and  let  the  flag  go  first !  " 

Jack  passed  on,  the  others  following  hard  after, 
and  behind  these,  four  or  five  score  hardy  fellows 
panting  up  the  slope  between  them  and  the  notch. 
Jack  scrambled  over  the  low  embankment  and  ran 
to  the  great  gun.  Long  Tom,  which  stood  in  posi- 
tion on  the  very  crest.  He  climbed  upon  its  car- 
riage, the  big  fellow  giving  him  a  lift,  and  stood 
upon  the  breech  of  the  great  cannon,  waving  the 
flag  where  all  below  could  see.  A  cheer  came  up 
from  the  Gap,  a  cheer  that  had  been  pent  up  for 
months,  a  cheer  that  had  in  it  the  ardor  that  had 
come  from  hard  struggle  and  great  privation  for  the 
sake  of  the  Union.  And  the  great  mountain  range 
that  opened  its  arms  to  take  the  Union  army  to 
its  very  heart  echoed  back  from  its  two  great  peaks 
the  loyal  shout,  and  from  the  highest  pinnacle  of 
the  Cumberlands  there  floated  that  day  the  flag 
with  the  stripes  and  the  stars. 

This  was  glory  enough  for  the  most  of  Morgan's 
command,  but  not  for  Carter's  brigade.  Carter 
asked  permission  to  pursue  the  enemy  through  the 
defiles  of  Tennessee,  which  he  knew  so  well.  He 
was  allowed  to  go  forward  as  far  as  Tazewell,  and 
to  send  detachments  short  distances  from  there. 
He  returned,  reporting  that  the  Confederates  had 
fled  beyond  Tazewell  and  to  the  Clinch  Mountains, 
or  even  farther.  As  a  military  movement  his  march 
into  Tennessee  was  hardly  more  than  a  reconnoitre. 
But    to    his    men  and  to    the   people  it  was  a  tri- 


226  A   Hero  in  Homespun 

umphal  entry.  Many  of  the  soldiers  passed  their 
own  homes.  From  time  to  time,  along  the  way,  a 
man  in  the  ranks  would  quicken  his  steps  as  he 
recognized  familiar  landmarks,  and  would  note  with 
eagerness  the  succession  of  well-known  objects  that 
marked  the  approach  of  his  own  house.  And  there 
at  the  fence  they  would  be  waiting,  —  the  wife  with 
the  baby  in  her  arms,  the  children  standing  along  the 
rail  fence,  —  and  the  man  would  drop  out  of  the  ranks 
to  embrace  his  wife  and  kiss  the  children,  and  hold 
for  a  moment  the  baby  to  his  heart,  while  his  com- 
panions sent  up  a  hearty  and  a  homesick  cheer. 
There  were  old  men  that  came  tottering  to  the 
door,  and  stood  leaning  on  their  staves,  thanking 
God,  like  Simeon  in  the  temple,  that  they  had  lived 
to  see  that  day.  There  were  women  at  every  house, 
cheering  and  waving  and  saluting  the  flag.  There 
were  lusty  children  that  shouted  their  joy  at  the  top 
of  their  boyish  lungs,  or  prattled  it  in  broken  baby 
accents.  And  there  were  those  who  could  not  cheer 
nor  wave  nor  speak,  but  who  stood  weeping  tears  of 
joy  when  they  saw  the  Union  flag  that  had  returned 
to  East  Tennessee. 


XXI 

A  Great  and  Forgotten  Battle 

CUB  was  playing  one  day  in  August,  down 
by  the  creek,  and  Jennie  was  spinning  in 
the  porch,  while   Elizabeth   hatchelled    the 
little  crop  of  flax  which  they  had  pulled  by 
hand,  and  were  preparing  for  the  loom. 

"  Hetchellin's  mighty  hard  work,"  remarked  Jen- 
nie.    "  You  let  me  do  thet  a  spell,  while  you  spin." 

"  No,  I'm  mighty  glad  of  a  chance  to  do  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Casey.  "  It's  lucky  we're  so  fur  to  one  side 
the  armies  don'  hardly  ever  come  through  the 
Holler.  All  the  flax  I  had  last  year  in  Tennessy 
the  sojers  tromped  down." 

"  I  reckon  this  war  hain't  a-goin'  to  las'  much 
longer,  don'  you  ?  " 

"  I  don'  see  how  it  kin,  with  our  side  holdin'  the 
Gap.  Hit  seems  mighty  quare  they  hain't  gone  on 
to  Knoxville.     They  mought  jes'  as  well." 

"  But,  as  long  as  the  Union  side  holds  the  Gap, 
the  rebs  won't  come  inter  Kaintucky,  will  they  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  reckon  they  kin.  They's  other 
gaps,  but  none  like  that.  They  mought  get  over 
into  the  west  part  o'  the  State,  but  now  that  Fort 
Henry  and  Fort  Donelson  has  fell,  they  hain't  no 
show  for  that." 

"  Why  don't  the  Union  sojers  go  on,  do  you 
reckon  ?  " 

227 


228  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  I  don'  know.  'Pears  like  they  git  all  hesitated 
up,  an'  don'  know  what  to  do.  Ef  I  was  in  com- 
mand at  the  Gap,  do  you  s'pose  I'd  leave  that  rail- 
road for  the  rebels  to  send  cotton  an'  corn  an'  fodder 
from  Georgy,  an'  rebel  sojers  from  V'ginny,  an'  let 
'em  travel  back  'n'  forth  an'  send  Union  men  south 
to  prison,  when  it'd  all  be  ours  for  the  astin'  ?  1 
reckon  not.  I've  a  plumb  notion  to  git  on  a  horse 
some  day  an'  ride  to  Gin'r'l  Morgan  to  the  Gap, 
an'  say,  '  Ef  it  hadn't  a  ben  for  me  ye  wouldn't 
a  got  here.  Now  you're  here,  ye  got  to  go 
furder,  or  ye  needn't  a  come.'  But  still  it's 
something,  that  while  he's  thar  the  rebels  can't 
come  in  here.  But  it's  mighty  hard  on  the  folks 
in  East  Tennessy.  Here  comes  Cub.  What's 
the  matter.  Cub  ?  " 

"  Sojers  is  tomin'  !  "  cried  Cub. 

"  Sojers  }  I  reckon  not.  Run  down  to  the  fence, 
Jennie,  an'  see." 

Jennie  ran  to  the  fence  and  back  in  haste. 

"  They  be  a-comin',  shore  enough,"  she  said,  "an' 
I'm  afeard  they're  the  rebs." 

"  The  rebs  ?  That's  impossible  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Casey. 

But  it  was  true.  While  General  George  Morgan 
was  holding  the  Gap  with  his  small  force,  Kirby 
Smith  had  left  General  Patterson  before  the  Gap 
to  prevent  trouble  from  Morgan,  and  had  passed 
from  Chattanooga,  through  East  Tennessee,  and 
into  the  mountains  of  Kentucky,  and  was  now 
hastening  toward  the  blue  grass. 

"  Git  some  water,  Jennie,"  said  Mrs.  Casey. 
"  Hit's  a  hot  day,  an'   they'll  be  thirsty.      Reb  or 


A  Great  and  Forgotten   Battle  229 

Union,  I  won't  refuse  no  thirsty  man  a  drink,  but 
they  gotter  keep  outer  this  house." 

She  examined  the  rifle  above  the  fireplace,  and 
hid  it  in  one  of  the  beds,  while  Jennie  ran  to  the 
spring,  and  brought  a  bucket  of  water,  which  she 
refilled  again  and  again.  Elizabeth  went  to  the 
fence  in  front  with  a  gourd,  and  met  the  first  men 
to  pass. 

"  Here's  water,"  she  said,  "  an'  you're  welcome 
to  it.  But  we're  two  women,  livin'  all  alone  with 
a  little  boy,  an'  we  hain't  got  no  more  to  eat  than 
we  need  ourselves.  We  hain't  got  no  contraband 
goods  here,  an'  we  hain't  a-goin'  to  have  none  o' 
you  men  a-comin'  in  an'  pesterin'  us.  Jest  take 
yer  drink  o'  water  an'  go  on." 

The  men  were  in  haste,  and  thankfully  received 
the  water,  which,  though  the  force  was  a  small  one, 
disappeared  far  more  rapidly  than  Jennie  could 
bring  it,  and  no  one  attempted  to  molest  the  women. 

"  Do  you  reckon  you  could  give  us  a  snack  to 
eat  ?  "  asked  one  man,  toward  the  rear.  "  We're 
gittin'  our  forage  as  we  go,  an'  the  fellers  in  the 
van  sorter  gits  ahead  of  us." 

"  You  kin  have  what  Httle  we  got  cooked  up," 
said  Elizabeth ;  "  but  you  mus'n't  take  wut  little  we 
got  to  live  on  for  the  winter." 

Jennie  brought  out  of  the  house  a  few  corn  pones, 
and  a  high  pie,  the  latter  made  of  several  layers  of 
biscuit  dough  alternating  with  apple  sauce. 

"  Tell  me  who  ye  be,"  asked  Elizabeth,  "  an' 
where  yer  goin'  ?  " 

"  We're  Kirby  Smith's  men,"  said  the  soldier. 
*'  The  main  army's  goin'  over  the  big  road  through 


230  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

London,  but  we're  scatterin'  out  so's  to  git  enough 
ter  eat.  We're  goin'  to  the  Big  Hill  now,  an'  I 
reckon  we'll  see  the  Ohio  River  afore  we  stop." 

"  I  reckon  you'll  see  some  other  things  afore  ye 
see  that,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Sich  as  which  ?  "  asked  the  soldier. 

"  Sich  as  bayonets,  an'  sich  like." 

"Well,  we  hain't  seed  much  to  skeer  us  this  fur," 
laughed  the  men. 

"You  better  go  back,"  said  she,  "while  ye  kin 
get  back  with  hull  skins." 

"  They  hain't  nothin'  a-gwine  ter  hurt  us,"  said 
one  of  the  men.  "  We  hain't  killable.  Ef  Yankee 
bullets  would  kill  us,  we'd  a  ben  dead  a  right  smart 
spell  ago.  We  got  so  much  lead  in  us  now  we 
don'  dast  ter  go  in  swimmin'." 

"  That's  a  pity,"  said  she.  "  Mos'  on  yer  need  a 
swim  right  bad." 

"  Wall,  good-by,  marm.  Good-by,  miss.  We'll 
come  back  atter  while." 

"  You'll  come  back  a  heap  faster'n  ye  went. 
That  is,  ef  you're  so's  to  be  able  to  walk." 

Thus  the  good-natured  banter  passed  between 
the  women  and  the  soldiers.  But  the  women  saw 
them  out  of  sight  with  great  anxiety. 

Toward  night  the  last  company  came  down  the 
road,  and  camped  beside  the  creek.  One  of  the 
officers  came  to  the  gate  to  make  inquiries  concern- 
ing the  roads  to  Manchester.  Elizabeth  was  pre- 
paring supper,  and  Jennie  met  him. 

"  Miss  Whitley  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "I  had  no  idy 
of  meeting  you  here,  but  I'm  mighty  glad  to  meet 
you  again.     You  remember  Dr.  Sam  Marshall  ?  " 


A  Great  and  Forgotten   Battle  231 

"  I  remember  you,"  said  Jennie,  flushing  slightly. 

"  I've  wanted  to  say,"  he  hurriedly  went  on,  "  I 
know  that  I  didn't  appear  well  when  we  met  afore. 
Like  as  not  it  was  my  fault.  If  you  thought  ill  of 
me  then  I'm  mighty  sorry ;  for  there's  no  one  in 
the  world  I'd  like  so  much  to  have  think  well  of 
me  as  you.  Miss  Whitley,  don't  try  to  stop  me. 
Don't  run  away  from  me.  I  ain't  goin'  to  say 
anything  more,  only  that  the  first  time  I  seen  you 
I  loved  you.  I  haven't  any  /dy  you  feel  so 
towards  me,  but  I  can't  help  thinkin'  that  if  you 
knew  me  better  —  if  I  could  explain  —  if  you'd 
just  count  me  a  friend  till  I  had  a  chance  to  show 
you  what  sort  of  feller  I  really  am  —  " 

He  was  going  on  almost  breathlessly,  but  Jennie 
stopped  him. 

"  It's  no  use,  Dr.  Marshall,"  she  said.  "  I  don' 
think  ill  o'  ye,  p'tic'lar,  but  I  couldn't  love  a  man 
that's  a  rebel." 

"Is  that  the  only  reason?"  he  asked.  "This 
war'll  be  over  after  a  while.  Then  we  can  talk  about 
that.  I  don't  want  you  to  say  you  love  me — not 
now.  Leastwise  I  don't  expect  it.  But  is  that  the 
only  reason  why  you  couldn't  ?  " 

Jennie  bit  her  lip  and  hesitated.  "  No,"  she 
said  at  length,  "  it  ain't  the  only  reason." 

"  You  love  Jack  Casey  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Tell 
me.      Is  that  the  reason  ?  " 

"Dr.  Marshall,  if  I  do,  I  hain't  never  told  him 
so  yet,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  tell  no  one  else.  Good 
night." 

She  turned  and  went  into  the  house,  and  Sam 
Marshall  wandered  down  to  the  Sinks,  and  listened 


232  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

to  the  swirl  of  the  water  as  it  disappeared,  and 
thought  his  own  life-current  had  suddenly  sunk  into 
a  like  abyss. 

When  Jennie  arose  next  morning  the  soldiers 
had  moved  on,  and  she  and  Elizabeth  waited,  as 
did  thousands  of  Kentucky  women,  for  the  dread 
tidings  that  were  soon  to  come. 

It  was  on  the  23d  of  August,  1862,  that  Kirby 
Smith  met  a  small  Union  force,  mostly  of  Ken- 
tuckians,  on  the  wooded  slopes  of  the  Big  Hill, 
which  lies  between  Rockcastle  and  "the  free  State 
of  Jackson,"  as  they  used  to  call  the  mountain 
county  named  for  Old  Hickory.  The  hill  is  four- 
teen miles  across,  and  it  was  hard  climbing,  to  say 
nothing  of  fighting,  on  that  hot  day.  There  were 
a  few  experienced  troops  that  had  come  from  Cum- 
berland Gap,  and  the  rest  were  home  guards.  The 
soldiers  who  had  been  under  fire  circulated  among 
the  new  recruits  and  encouraged  them.  The  Whit- 
ley brothers  were  there,  and  to  their  company  were 
added  some  new  recruits  from  the  neighboring 
county  of  Estill. 

"  Howdy,  Mr.  Murray,  I  didn't  know  you  was  in 
the  war." 

"  Yes,  I  'listed  two  months  ago.  I  hoped  that 
you  young  fellers  cud  put  down  the  rebellion  with- 
out me,  but  hyur  I  be.  Where's  your  friends  from 
Tennessy  ? " 

"  Cousin  Henry  got  killed  in  the  war."  Eph 
shrank  from  telling  that  he  had  been  hanged. 
"Jack  Casey  is  with  his  reg'maint  at  the  Gap." 

"'Pears  like  them  men  at  the  Gap  mought  a 
saved  us  this  trouble." 


A  Great  and  Forgotten   Battle  233 

"  So  it  does.  But  it  don't  seem  like  nobody 
realizes  the  importance  of  pushing  on  into  East 
Tennessy.  I've  heerd  tell  that  Abe  Lincoln  has 
insisted  on  it  from  the  start,  and  Thomas  and  Nel- 
son has  always  believed  in  it.  But  they  always  put 
some  one  in  command  that  don't.  An'  so  the  rebels 
has  that  railroad,  and  they  can  bring  their  forces  from 
V'ginny  or  the  cotton  States  just  as  they  please,  an' 
dump  'em  down  thar  right  at  our  door.  Ef  we'd  go 
on  while  we're  at  it,  an'  git  that  railroad  an'  hold 
onto  it  like  grim  death,  they  wouldn't  be  no  more 
raids  like  this." 

"  Nelson's  in  command  now.  He  believes  in 
invadin'   East  Tennessy." 

"  Yes,  but  he's  got  all  he  kin  do  now  to  keep 
back  the  rebs  that's  here.  He  can't  do  no  invadin' 
now  his  self" 

Here  the  long  roll  beat,  and  the  men  fell  in  at 
their  posts.  There  was  a  scattering  fire  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  soon  the  woods  were  alive  with  men  in 
gray.  To  the  new  men  it  was  uncanny  to  see  the 
Confederates  pushing  their  way  up  the  hill,  with 
flushed  faces  and  with  unslackened  speed.  They 
fired,  as  it  seemed,  into  their  faces,  but  really  above 
them,  as  do  all  raw  troops,  especially  when  shooting 
down  hill;  and  it  became  a  thing  of  terror  to  see  the 
enemy  come  on,  scrambling  over  rocks,  pulling  them- 
selves up  by  branches  of  trees,  and  hardly  minding 
the  leaden  hail  that  was  poured  down  the  hill.  Up 
and  up  and  up,  panting  and  yelling,  and  seeming  to 
blow  the  smoke  of  battle  from  their  nostrils,  and  now 
the  enemy  was  at  the  crest,  and  fighting  hand  to  hand 
for  possession  of  the  ridge.     The  crooked  Union  line 


234  -^  Hero  in  Homespun 

wavered  and  broke.  A  few  men  fled,  and  then  the 
road  was  full  of  them.  Then  the  Confederate 
advance  drove  itself  like  a  wedge  into  the  gap  they 
had  made,  and  the  terrified  home  guards  turned  and 
ran,  pell-mell,  toward  the  blue  grass. 

On  the  western  slope  of  Big  Hill  there  is  a  clear 
and  beautiful  spring,  whose  waters  ripple  in  a  cool 
rill  all  the  way  down  the  mountain  side.  When  the 
retreating  soldiers  came  to  this,  they  halted  for  water, 
and  here  a  handful  of  the  old  troops  made  a  stand, 
supported  by  the  braver  ones  that  were  new.  Here 
again  the  enemy  came  upon  them,  but,  met  in  the 
narrow  mountain  pass  by  a  determined  body,  they 
were  repulsed,  and  their  superior  numbers  driven 
back,  and  under  cover  of  this  advantage,  the  Union 
soldiers  retreated  to  the  toot  of  the  hill. 

A  week  later  occurred  the  forgotten  battle  of  Rich- 
mond. The  terrible  struggles  about  the  Confeder- 
ate capital  later  in  the  war  drowned  out  all  memory 
of  another  Richmond.  But  here,  in  the  edge  of  the 
blue  grass,  a  few  miles  from  the  Big  Hill  fight,  oc- 
curred what  was  up  to  that  time  the  greatest  battle  in 
Kentucky,  and  one  whose  results  struck  terror  to 
the  heart  of  the  entire  North. 

General  Nelson  was  not  dismayed  by  the  defeat 
of  his  troops  at  Big  Hill.  He  left  General  Man- 
son  ^  in  charge  of  the  army,  with  instructions  to  op- 
pose the  Confederate  advance,  and  fall  slowly  back 
to  the  Kentucky  River,  while  he  prepared  to  make 

^  "I  immediately  sent  couriers  with  orders  not  to  fight  the  enemy.  .  .  .  What 
the  motive  of  General  Manson  was  in  bringing  on  an  action  under  the  circumstances, 
and  marching  five  miles  to  do  so    I  will  leave  him  to  explain  to  you. 

"  W.  Nelson,  Major  General.''^ 


A  Great  and  Forgotten  Battle  235 

a  stand  at  his  own  well-chosen  position.  He  was 
driving  about  in  a  buggy,  selecting  points  to  be  oc- 
cupied by  his  troops,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of 
the  cannonade.  Lashing  his  horse  into  a  run,  he 
hastened  to  Lancaster,  ten  miles  on  the  way,  where 
he  secured  a  fresh  horse  and  pushed  on.  Over  six 
feet  high,  and  bearing  his  three  hundred  pounds 
lightly,  he  was  one  of  the  most  commanding  figures 
of  the  war,  and  those  who  saw  him  that  day  lash- 
ing his  horse  furiously  along  the  Richmond  pike  fell 
back  before  him. 

As  Nelson  approached  Richmond,  the  firing, 
instead  of  receding,  came  nearer,  and  he  knew  that 
it  boded  ill  for  his  army.  The  Union  forces,  under 
General  Manson,  had  gone  out  to  meet  the  Con- 
federates, and  taken  position  beyond  Richmond,  a 
few  miles  toward  the  Big  Hill.  Behind  their  slender 
defences  offence  rails  stood  the  new  men,  and  against 
them,  hardened  to  service  and  flushed  with  victory, 
came  the  hosts  of  Kirby  Smith.  To  have  won  their 
way  inch  by  inch  up  the  steep  side  of  the  Big  Hill 
had  been  to  them  a  thing  of  little  difficulty  ;  and 
now  to  meet  their  foe  upon  the  level  and  face  to 
face,  they  counted  hardly  worth  the  name  of  fight- 
ing. With  a  yell  and  a  volley,  they  came  to  the 
attack,  while  the  Union  soldiers  with  set  teeth 
awaited  the  onset. 

There  was  a  short  struggle  and  a  sharp  one,  and 
the  dead  and  wounded  were  on  every  side.  The 
Confederate  artillery  came  up,  and  belched  out  its 
fire  and  sent  its  round  shot  bowling  over  the  rolling 
fields  and  tearing  through  the  ranks.  The  raw  re- 
cruits fought  bravely  against  great  odds  until   the 


236  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

fight  became  a  hand-to-hand  contest,  and  then  the 
Union  soldiers  broke  and  retreated  toward  the  town. 

As  Nelson  came  into  Richmond,  he  was  met  by 
the  retreating  soldiers.  He  was  in  a  frenzy.  The 
defeat  of  his  army  meant  the  surrender  of  Lexington 
and  Frankfort,  perhaps  also  of  Louisville  and  Cin- 
cinnati. He  drew  his  sword  and  ordered  the  fugi- 
tives to  halt.  He  cursed  the  women  who  ran  to 
him  for  protection,  and  threatened  the  life  of  every 
man  who  did  not  turn  back.  The  soldiers  feared 
him  more  than  the  enemy,  and  gathered  to  his 
support.  Only  one  man  withstood  his  authority. 
A  soldier  from  Indiana,  making  toward  the  rear, 
stopped  when  ordered  by  Nelson  to  return,  and 
held  up  a  wounded  arm. 

"  But,  General,  I'm  wounded,"  he  said. 

The  infuriated  Nelson  struck  him  over  the  head 
with  his  sword  and  pushed  on.  The  poor  fellow 
fell  against  a  fence,  and  holding  himself  up,  leaned 
his  wounded  head  upon  the  fence,  which  showed  his 
blood  stains  for  many  a  year.  When,  a  few  months 
later.  Nelson  was  shot  dead  by  an  Indiana  officer, 
the  people  of  Richmond  looked  at  the  stains  upon 
the  fence,  and  thought  his  death  a  retribution  for 
his  striking  a  wounded  Indiana  soldier. 

Furious  as  Nelson  was,  he  was  yet  able  to  display 
great  military  genius.  He  selected  a  new  position, 
and  gathered  the  fugitives  to  maintain  it.  Just  out- 
side the  little  city,  in  the  cemetery,  he  rallied  his 
men.  Hiding  behind  tombstones,  and  protecting 
themselves  behind  the  fence,  they  made  a  desperate 
stand.  But  again  the  rebels  pressed  upon  them  in 
front  and  flank,  while  their  cavalry  threatened  the 


A  Great  and  Forgotten   Battle  237 

rear.  Their  guns  seemed  never  empty.  Their  yell 
was  terrible  to  hear.  The  gaps  in  their  ranks  seemed 
to  heal  as  fast  as  made.  Nelson's  utmost  efforts 
were  unavailing.  His  men  broke  and  ran,  leaving 
on  the  field  five  hundred  dead  and  twelve  hundred 
wounded.  That  in  its  day  was  an  awful  roll  of  dead 
and  wounded,  and  showed  how  hot  had  been  the 
struggle  ere  the  new  troops  gave  way.  Nelson  left 
no  stone  unturned  to  redeem  the  fortunes  of  the 
day.  When  his  soldiers  had  been  driven  from 
the  cemetery  and  through  the  town,  and  he  himself 
was  wounded,  he  rallied  them  for  a  last  desperate 
stand  upon  the  Lancaster  pike;  but  all  in  vain. 
His  men  were  hopelessly  routed.  They  fled  be- 
yond Camp  Nelson  to  Lexington  and  then  on  north, 
hardly  stopping  till  they  reached  the  Ohio  River ; 
and  Kirby  Smith  pushed  on  into  the  rich  blue-grass 
region,  where  he  captured  hundreds  of  fine  horses 
and  gathered  stores  of  provisions,  and  his  men  lived 
on  the  fat  of  the  land. 

There  was  consternation  in  Ohio,  for  on  the  flank 
of  Kirby  Smith  was  John  Morgan's  band  of  cavalry, 
which  a  year  later  made  such  a  disastrous  raid,  and 
even  now  was  learning  how  to  do  it.  And  Smith's 
whole  army  moved  northward  at  its  leisure,  Bragg 
also  moving  into  Kentucky  by  a  parallel  route,  oc- 
cupying towns  which  the  Union  troops  had  held, 
and  practically  taking  possession  of  the  entire  State. 
Lexington  and  Frankfort  were  evacuated.  Cincin- 
nati and  Louisville  were  in  terror.  The  officers  of 
Ohio  became  anxious  for  the  safety  of  the  State 
archives,  and  General  Buell  marched  with  all  haste 
from  Nashville  to  protect  the  cities  of  the  North. 


238  A  Hero  In   Homespun 

General  George  W.  Morgan  and  his  forces  at 
Cumberland  Gap,  cut  off  from  their  base  of  sup- 
plies and  surrounded  by  forces  greater  than  their 
own,  were  in  imminent  peril  of  capture  or  starva- 
tion, and  in  all  Kentucky  there  was  no  adequate 
force  to  oppose  the  advance  of  Smith  and  Bragg. 
General  George  Morgan  at  length  determined  to 
retreat,  and  did  so,  taking  his  command  with  him 
across  the  mountains  to  the  Ohio  River,  and  leaving 
Cumberland  Gap  to  the  Confederates.  Thus  did  a 
successful  movement  end  in  dismal  failure,  and  the 
mountains  were  left  again  in  undisputed  possession 
of  the  Confederates. 

A  few  miles  south  of  Richmond,  on  the  pike 
toward  Berea,  stands  a  little  red  brick  church,  whose 
walls  show  to  this  day  the  marks  of  cannon  balls. 
Inside,  on  the  narrow  benches,  thick  as  they  could 
lie,  were  the  wounded  men.  In  a  corner  near  the 
pulpit,  side  by  side,  lay  Mr.  Murray,  and  Bill  and 
Joe  Whitley. 

"  I  shall  soon  be  well,"  said  Mr.  Murray  to 
Becky,  who  came  with  her  mother  the  day  after 
the  battle.  "And  Joe'll  recover,  too,  but  Bill  won't 
live  many  days.  He's  a  brave  man,  and  wants  to 
see  his  sister.  Can  you  ride  and  fetch  her  to 
him  ?  " 

Becky  consented,  and  her  father  told  her  how 
the  boys  had  received  their  wounds.  They  were 
the  last  men  to  fall  back.  Joe  stood  with  the  flag 
where  the  fire  was  hottest  till  the  army  fled,  and  was 
shot  just  as  the  retreat  began.  Bill  looked  back 
and  saw  him  fall,  and,  turning,  caught  him  and  the 
flag  together  in  his  arms,  and  with  Eph's  help  bore 


A  Great  and  Forgotten  Battle  239 

them  from  the  field.  It  was  that  return  to  save 
Joe  and  the  flag  that  cost  Bill  his  life ;  for  just  as 
they  crossed  the  fence  a  ball  struck  him,  inflicting 
a  fatal  wound. 

"  Shall  I  go  for  your  sister  ? "  asked  Beck)^  of 
Bill. 

"  I  sorter  wisht  ye  would,"  he  said  ;  "  an'  ef  I 
don't  live  till  ye  git  back,  tell  her  all  sech  things  as 
a  feller  ort  to  say  to  his  sister.  An'  God  bless  ye 
an'  Joe.  I  don't  blame  him  fur  likin'  ye.  I  —  I 
—  I  could  a  sorter  keered  fur  ye  myself  ef  it 
hadn't  a  been  I  knowed  you  an'  Joe  liked  each 
other." 

Becky  rode  alone  to  Roundstone,  and  returned 
with  Jennie  and  Mrs.  Casey.  They  left  Cub  with 
a  neighbor.  The  two  girls  rode  one  horse,  and 
brought  a  large  bundle  of  bedding  for  the  wounded 
men.  And  a  prettier  picture  could  hardly  have 
been  than  these  two  girls  on  horseback  together, 
with  their  fair  faces  and  white  sunbonnets.  Bill 
was  dead  before  they  returned,  and  with  sad  hearts 
they  turned  to  the  nursing  of  the  living. 

There  was  much  for  women  to  do  in  those  days, 
and  not  all  could  remain  away  from  home.  Nor, 
as  the  men  were  prisoners  of  war,  were  all  allowed 
to  do  so.  In  a  few  days  Mrs.  Casey  went  home, 
as  Mrs.  Murray  had  already  done,  and  the  two 
girls  were  left  together  at  the  hospital,  caring  for 
their  friends,  who  were  to  be  sent  south  as  soon  as 
they  were  able.  The  days  were  all  too  few.  Almost 
reluctantly  they  saw  the  daily  improvement  of  Joe 
and  Mr.  Murray.  The  latter  was  first  able  to  be 
moved,  and  together  they  bade  him  a  sad  farewell. 


240  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

as  with  a  score  of  others  from  the  hospital,  he 
departed  to  Andersonville.  But  Joe  recovered 
more  slowly,  and  with  one  or  two  discouraging  re- 
lapses, and  was  still  too  feeble  to  be  removed  in 
October,  when  the  battle  of  Perryville  drove  the 
Confederates  from  the  State,  and  Joe  was  left  in 
Kentucky  with  his  friends. 

He  was  still  too  weak  to  make  the  long,  rough 
journey  to  Roundstone,  but  they  obtained  a  carriage 
in  Richmond  and  took  him  to  the  home  of  the 
Murrays,  where  Jennie  left  him. 

But  who  shall  tell  of  the  mingled  feelings  in  the 
hearts  of  those  young  women,  who  were  but  two  of 
thousands  of  loyal  and  true  Southern  women  of 
their  time,  each  with  her  love  and  pride,  her  sorrow 
and  fear  ?  They  were  happy  in  the  recovery  and 
escape  of  Joe,  and  both  mourned  the  brave  and 
kind  Mr.  Murray  in  his  living  death  in  a  distant 
prison.  And  Jennie's  heart,  which  was  still  sore  for 
the  tragic  death  of  her  father,  was  broken  anew  by 
the  loss  of  her  brother  Bill  and  anxiety  for  Jack, 
from  whom  she  had  not  heard  since  the  evacuation 
of  the  Gap.  The  narrowness  of  their  vision,  their 
ignorance  of  the  great  movements  of  the  war, 
increased  their  uncertainty  and  anxiety ;  and  the 
only  things  that  remained  unshaken  and  immovable 
were  their  love  for  their  friends,  their  trust  in 
God,  and  their  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the 
Union. 

Mrs.  Casey,  from  her  visit  to  the  hospital,  re- 
turned by  another  way  ;  the  Confederate  occupation 
of  the  Big  Hill  making  it  difficult  to  get  back  to 
Roundstone  by  that  route.     So  she  went  to   Berea, 


A  Great  and  Forgotten   Battle  241 

where  there  had  been  a  school,  that  was  now  broken 
up,  and  through  Boone's  Gap  to  Livingstone,  and 
so  across  Wild  Cat  Mountain.  Here  she  spent  the 
night  with  a  family  of  Tennessee  refugees  who  had 
occupied  a  cabin  which  they  had  found  vacant  after 
the  battle  a  year  before.  Finding  further  progress 
northward  difficult,  and  having  undisputed  posses- 
sion, they  had  remained. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear,"  she  asked,  as  she  was  leav- 
ing, "'bout  a  house  the  rebels  burned  at  the  time  o' 
the  battle  .?  " 

"  They  burned  more'n  one  house,"  said  the  man. 
"  What  fur  house  was  you  thinkin'  'bout  ?  " 

"I  wasn't  thinkin'  'bout  no  house  in  p'tic'lar,  only 
I  heerd  that  they  burned  up  a  house  with  a  woman 
m  It. 

"  Lack  as  not  they  did,  the  dirty  devils  !  "  said 
the  man.  "They  done  a  trick  as  bad,  I've  heerd. 
They  burned  up  a  house  with  a  baby  in  hit,  an'  hits 
ma  went  crazy." 

A  sudden  idea  came  to  Elizabeth. 

"  Where  was  it  at  ?  "  she  asked. 

"'Bout  a  mile  from  here,  down  that  holler,  an' 
up  yan  spur  o'  the  hill.  See  that  lone  pine,  thar  in 
the  edge  of  a  leetle  deadenin'  ?     That's  hit." 

Elizabeth  asked  no  more  questions,  but  turned 
her  horse's  head  that  way.  She  found  the  pine  tree 
in  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  the  chimney  and 
doorstone  where  the  burned  house  had  stood. 
The  place  answered  to  a  description  she  had  heard 
from  Jack,  and  her  heart  sank  within  her.  She 
made  her  way  to  the  pine,  and  there  were  two  graves 
instead  of  one. 


242  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

She  turned  and  rode  sadly  away,  and  reined  in 
her  horse  at  the  next  cabin  and  asked  for  a  drink. 

"  Am  I  on  the  big  road  to  London  ?  "  she  asked 
the  tall,  lank  woman  who  came  to  the  fence  with 
a  gourd,  a  baby  at  her  breast,  and  a  two  year  old 
clinging  to  her  skirt. 

"  Yes,  this  here's  the  road,"  said  the  mother, 
hushing  the  ravenous  young  babe,  and  bribing  him 
to  silence  by  allowing  him  to  proceed  with  his 
dinner  while  she  talked.  "  This  is  the  road.  How 
d'ye  come  ?  " 

"  I  come  down  the  road  from  the  top  o'  Wild 
Cat,  but  I  sorter  got  out  of  the  way,  I  reckon.  I 
come  by  a  place  where  they's  ben  a  house  burnt, 
up  here  about  three-quarters." 

"  Oh,  yes.  That's  Joe  Cameron's  house,  I  reckon. 
Him  an'  Mollie  lived  thar.     Did  ye  hear  about  it  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't.     How  was  it  ?  " 

"  Wall,  hit  was  thisaway.  Joe  an*  Moll  they  got 
married  an'  lived  up  thar,  an'  Moll  was  allers  sorter 
quare.  She  was  sorter  cold  lack,  but  she  could  love 
an'  hate  lack  death,  only  she  didn't  show  hit  lack 
other  folks.  An'  wen  Joe  died,  two  year  ago  las' 
winter,  she  acted  so  you  couldn't  har'ly  tell  wether 
she  keered  or  not.  But  we  knowed  she  did,  a 
heap." 

"  Them's  the  kind  that  keers  the  most,  a  heap 
o'   times,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Yes,  an'  she  did.  She  wouldn't  live  nowhurs 
but  jes'  thar,  an'  she  lived  thar  an'  sometimes  uster 
go  out  an'  sleep  on  Joe's  grave.  Did  yer  see  Joe's 
grave  under  the  pine  ?  " 

"  I  seed  some  graves  there,"  said  Elizabeth. 


A  Great  and  Forgotten  Battle  243 

"  Yas,  thar's  two  thar  now.  Time  o'  the  battle, 
a  year  ago,  Moll  come  down  here  with  three  peck 
o'  beans  she  wanted  my  ole  man  to  pack  for  her 
to  the  store  when  he  was  a-goin'  light,  an'  wen 
she  got  back  the  battle  was  on,  an'  she  couldn't 
git  home  till  night,  an'  when  she  did  fin'ly  git  thar, 
the  rebs  had  burned  her  house  an'  the  baby  in  it." 

"  What  did  she  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  Good  laws  a  massy,  you'd  better  ast 
what  she  didn't  do !  She  warn't  jes'  rightly  at 
herself  afore,  an'  wen  that  happened,  she  jes'  went 
stark  crazy,  an'  she  wandered  all  over  the  moun- 
ting, astin'  folks  ef  they'd  seed  Joe  or  the  baby. 
The  neighbors  uster  pack  her  up  somethin'  to 
eat,  an'  the  teamsters  sorter  got  to  know  her,  an* 
lef  her  a  snack  now  an'  then.  But  wen  winter 
come  we  was  all  mighty  nigh  starved  out,  with 
what  the  armies  had  et  up,  an'  we  tried  to  look 
atter  her,  but  some  days  we  didn't  see  her.  An' 
we  made  her  a  sorter  shelter  by  the  grave,  but  a 
heap  o'  times  she  wouldn't  sleep  in  hit,  an'  one 
mornin'  atter  a  storm  that  froze  everythin'  hard, 
an'  the  ice  so  slick  you  couldn't  har'ly  stan',  let 
alone  climb  the  mounting,  my  ole  man  started  up 
with  somethin'  fur  her  to  eat,  an'  he  found  her 
dead,  froze  stiff  on  Joe's  grave.  He  come  back, 
an'  he  says,  says  he,  '  Pore  Moll,  I  reckon  she's 
found  Joe  an'   the  baby.'  " 

Elizabeth  rode  on  in  silence. 

"  I  won't  tell  Jack  an'  Jennie,"  she  said  to  her- 
self; "  it  wouldn't  do  no  good,  an'  it  would  make 
'em  feel  bad." 


XXII 

The  Secret  of  the  Sinks 

IT  is  not  always  the  largest  event  which  fills  the 
largest  angle  in  memory.  The  little  village  of 
Manchester  forgot  a  hundred  thrilling  and  im- 
portant events  of  the  war  even  before  its  close, 
they  trod  so  on  each  other's  heels.  There  was 
always  something  happening  about  the  salt  works, 
three  miles  away,  where  the  water  from  saline 
springs,  piped  through  wooden  spouts,  is  boiled 
down  by  a  process  painfully  slow,  and  whatever 
affected  the  salt  works  affected  Manchester ;  for  he 
who  enters  the  Goose  Creek  Valley  has  the  option 
of  going  up  the  creek  or  down  the  creek,  with  the 
further  provision  of  frequent  fording  of  the  creek, 
whichever  way  he  goes.  But  some  minor  events 
were  never  forgotten.  For  instance,  it  is  remem- 
bered by  many,  and  mentioned  always  with  sadness 
and  something  akin  to  horror,  that  when  George 
W.  Morgan  was  retreating  with  his  Union  army 
from  Cumberland  Gap,  and  John  H.  Morgan  with 
his  dauntless  riders  was  hanging  on  his  flanks,  just 
as  the  Union  troops  were  preparing  to  move  out  of 
Manchester,  where  they  had  halted  for  a  day,  there 
was  a  pause  caused  bv  the  execution  of  a  Union 
soldier  who  had  murdered  a  comrade.  The  very 
minute  that  the  fatal  shots  were  fired  by  ten 
soldiers,  five  of  whose  guns  were  loaded   and   the 

244 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  245 

rest  blank,  as  if  in  echo  of  their  shots,  there  came 
the  sound  of  the  firing  of  the  Confederate  cavalry, 
attacking  one  of  the  Union  wagon  trains. 

Many  men  in  and  about  Manchester  lost  their 
lives  during  those  terrible  four  years ;  and  they  were 
buried  and  forgotten.  But  so  long  as  the  world 
stands,  the  village  will  not  forget  the  incident  of  the 
retreating  army  shooting  one  of  its  own  soldiers, 
and  the  two  antiphonal  volleys  that  seemed  more 
awful  than  the  roar  of  a  battle. 

It  was  on  the  night  before  that  very  morning  in 
September,  1862,  that  an  incident  occurred  which  has 
always  been  remembered  as  in  some  measure  distinct 
from  the  other  events  of  the  war  as  they  affected  the 
life  of  Roundstone  Holler.  To  Roundstone  it  was 
the  climax  of  the  war,  and  it  gave  to  the  Sinks  a 
new  and  unuttered,  but  awful  interest.  Besides  the 
men  whom  the  Holler  had  sent  into  the  Union  army, 
there  were  some  in  irregular  organizations  with  oc- 
casional military  experience.  Some  were  old  men 
and  boys,  organized  for  home  defence  under  "  Cap- 
tain" Ben  Bailey,  whose  two  sons.  Lew  and  Rastus, 
were  in  the  army.  But  there  were  two  marauding 
bands :  one  of  which  rendezvoused  at  Gooserock, 
across  Oxyoke  from  the  Holler,  and  called  itself 
a  band  of  "  Southern  Regulators,"  commanded  by 
Tom  Jackson;  and  the  other,  which  had  its  head- 
quarters at  Drip  Rock  Cave,  and  was  under  a 
desperado  named  Palestine  Seagrave,  professed 
Union  sympathies.  There  was  little  difference  be- 
tween the  last  two  bands.  Both  were  lawless,  and 
both  fought  for  plunder.  Their  choice  of  sides  was 
relative,  and  not  absolute,  excepting  as  the  mutual 


246  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

hatred  engendered  made  adherence  to  one  set  of 
principles  compulsory.  Both  bodies  hated  Old 
Ben  and  his  band,  which  had  dealt  out  summary 
justice  to  one  or  two  members  of  each.  But  each 
had  enough  to  occupy  the  attention  of  the  dozen  or 
twenty  desperadoes  who  composed  it,  without  court- 
ing direct  conflict  with  him  and  his  larger  company, 
which  numbered  near  fourscore  loyal  boys  and  old 
men  from  Roundstone  Holler  and  five  miles  round 
about.  Up  on  the  top  of  Scalp  Dance  Hill  he 
lived,  in  a  secluded  and  naturally  fortified  place 
selected  by  his  grandfather,  who  had  been  Round- 
stone's  first  white  settler.  Just  at  the  end  of  the 
path  which  is  practically  the  only  way  to  gain  access 
to  his  house,  are  the  Sinks,  Roundstone's  everlast- 
ing mystery,  where  the  creek  disappears  under  the 
Jellico  Mountain.  Back  of  the  house,  in  the  edge 
of  the  timber,  stood  Captain  Ben's  still.  This  has 
been  destroyed  thrice  in  recent  years  by  revenue 
officers,  in  league,  as  the  family  believe,  with  the 
devil  and  the  makers  of  the  infamous  red  whiskey 
from  Cincinnati.  It  was  a  poor  return  on  the  part 
of  the  government,  all  the  Baileys  believe,  for  their 
services  in  the  time  of  the  war ;  and  they  have  given 
several  revenue  officers  what  they  count  their  just 
deserts.  At  the  time  when  Captain  Ben  was  in  his 
prime,  revenue  officers  were  unknown  in  the  Holler. 
There  were  no  worse  things  then  than  rattlesnakes, 
panthers,  and  bushwhackers.  From  his  house  Ben 
could  view  the  whole  surrounding  region,  and 
from  here  the  blast  of  his  horn  would  be  heard  two 
miles  on  a  clear  day,  and  further  yet  at  night ; 
and  the  word  was  passed  on   by  the  women,  while 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  247 

the  men  hastened  with  incredible  speed  to  their 
trysting  place  at  the  Sinks,  where  the  roads  meet 
that  come  down  the  valley  on  both  sides  of  the  creek. 

The  two  bands  of  Jackson  and  Seagrave  con- 
tinued their  depredations  until  the  autumn  of  '62, 
ranging  further  and  further  from  home  under  the 
growing  and  wholesome  fear  of  Captain  Ben,  and 
alv/ays  with  mutual  hatred  and  some  fighting  of 
each  other.  When  Kirby  Smith  invaded  Ken- 
tucky, however,  the  band  that  called  itself  Union 
thought  it  time  to  consider  the  soundness  of  its 
politics,  and  when  Cumberland  Gap  was  evacuated 
and  the  Union  troops  were  fleeing  northward  with 
the  Confederate  cavalry  dogging  their  flanks,  the 
error  of  their  previous  affiliation  seemed  manifest. 
So  there  was  a  determination  on  the  part  of  the 
men  to  fall  in  with  the  Confederate  rear  and  plunder 
the  Union  baggage  trains. 

Against  this  proposed  course,  so  the  story  goes, 
for  it  is  derived  from  somewhat  meagre  data,  and 
for  obvious  reasons  when  the  sequel  is  known,  the 
captain.  Pal  Seagrave,  protested.  Whether  from 
a  lingering  spark  of  conscience,  or  from  a  conviction 
that  the  interests  of  the  plunderers  would  best  be 
served  by  remaining  as  they  were,  he  sat  on  his 
horse,  and  swore  to  shoot  any  man  who  went  to 
the  rebels,  and  ordered  them  into  their  saddles  for 
a  long  ride.  They  were  hardly  mounted  when  they 
came  face  to  face  with  Tom  Jackson's  command, 
en  route  for  Manchester,  where  they  hoped  to  find 
opportunity  to  plunder  the  Union  rear  as  it  moved 
on.  Both  sides  drew  their  weapons,  and  a  battle 
seemed  imminent,  when  Pal  called  a  truce. 


248  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Looky  here,  Tom  Jackson,"  he  said,  "  these 
here  men  o'  mine  is  bound  ter  go  with  the  South. 
I  swore  I  wouldn't  go,  an'  I  could  er  held  'em  ef 
hit  hadn't  a  ben  for  meetin'  you.  They'll  go  now, 
sure.  Fur  I  know  mighty  well  ef  the  shootin'  be- 
gins here  right  now,  some  o'  these  hell  hounds  o' 
my  own'U  shoot  me  so's  to  go  to  the  devil  along  o' 
you.  Now,  they  hain't  no  use  o'  these  men  killin' 
each  other.  They  mought's  well  go  together. 
But  they  cyan't  have  but  one  captain,  an'  considerin' 
the  past,  this  earth  hain't  big  enough  to  hold  both 
you  an'  me.  Draw  yer  pistol,  or  you're  a  dead 
man  1 

At  the  word  both  men  drew,  and  Jackson  fell 
at  the  first  fire. 

Still  holding  his  smoking  pistol,  Seagrave  said: 

"  Men,  I'm  yer  captain  now.  I  jes'  want  ye  to 
bury  the  hatchet,  an'  let  bygones  be  bygones,  an' 
I'll  lead  ye  to  Manchester  agin  the  Yanks.  But 
ef  they's  ary  man  that  objects  to  me  fur  captain,  let 
him  say  so  right  here." 

He  cocked  his  pistol  and  waited  for  a  reply. 
There  were  some  dark  looks  from  the  newer  con- 
tingent whose  recent  commander  he  had  just  shot, 
but  no  man  questioned  his  right  to  command.  He 
proceeded  : 

"  The  Yanks  is  a  tryin'  to  drive  a  lot  o'  beef 
cattle  afoot  through  the  mountings  to  the  Ohio 
River.  Ye  didn't  know  that,  did  ye  ?  Wall,  I 
knowed  hit.  An'  I  know  whar  they'll  stop  to- 
night, too.  An'  I  allow  ter  be  thar  about  sunup 
or  a  hour  afore,  an'  see  ef  we  cyan't  scatter  them 
cattle  in  the  woods,  an'  pick  'em  up  later  on." 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  249 

This  announcement  evoked  interest  from  even 
the  new  members  of  his  command,  and  a  yell  of 
approval  from  the  old  ones. 

"  Now,  you  men,  I  don't  want  ye  to  go  ter 
openin'  no  old  sores.  I  want  each  detachment  to 
elect  a  leftenant  ter  command  that  part  o'  the  com- 
pany, an'  I'll  command  the  hull.  An'  when  ye  git 
that  done  an'  a  grave  dug,  I  wanter  tell  ye  some- 
thin'  else  that'll  interest  ye  all,  an'  be  a  sorter  frolic 
fur  early  in  the  evenin'." 

They  rode  aside  into  the  woods,  and  scooped  out 
a  shallow  grave,  where  they  buried  Captain  Tom, 
as  brave  and  wicked  a  man  as  ever  escaped  the 
hangman,  and  soon  were  deep  in  the  more  conge- 
nial work  of  electing  officers.  Pal  sat  on  his  horse 
between  the  two  bands,  as  they  separated  to  decide, 
each  for  itself,  who  should  be  its  second  officer. 
When  they  had  made  their  choices,  they  came  to- 
gether, and  he  announced  the  decisions  for  the  rati- 
fication of  the  united  company,  called  the  men 
elected  to  his  side,  and  laid  out  his  plan  for  the 
campaign.  After  a  brief  conference  with  his  offi- 
cers, he  addressed  the  company  : 

"  Men,  we've  got  something  ter  submit  fur  yer 
approval.  Yer  don't  none  on  ye  bar  no  love  p'tic'- 
lar  to  Ben  Bailey.  Now  afore  we  leave  these  parts 
ter  be  gone  a  spell,  an'  while  the  Union  folks  is  all 
mixed  up,  let's  visit  him  to-night  afore  we  start,  an' 
git  a  drink  an'  settle  his  hash.  Then  ef  we  want, 
we  kin  fetch  our  cattle  back  here  with  some  sorter 
safety,  an'  pasture  them  in  the  coves  about  Goose- 
rock,  but  hit  won't  be  no  use  as  long  as  he  lives." 

There  could  have  been  no  better  way  of  cement- 


250  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

ing  the  sympathies  of  his  lately  united  band  than  by 
such  a  proposition.  It  was  received  with  the  great- 
est enthusiasm,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  in 
perfecting  the  organization  and  equipment  of  the 
company,  preparatory  to  this  and  a  more  extended 
expedition. 

The  mountain  soldier  had  the  limitations  of  his 
virtues,  among  which  was  his  tendency  to  drop  out 
of  the  ranks  for  a  day  or  two,  whenever  his  regiment 
passed  near  his  home.  Usually,  knowing  well  the 
mountain  roads  and  passes,  they  had  no  difficulty  in 
overtaking  their  regiments,  a  few  days'  march  further 
on.  Jack  Casey  and  Lew  and  Rastus  Bailey  came 
through  Oxyoke  Gap  that  day,  and  intended  to 
stop  for  a  night  and  part  of  a  day,  having  learned 
that  the  Union  van  would  halt  for  a  short  rest  at 
Manchester  while  the  wagon  trains  came  up.  There 
was  mingled  joy  and  sadness  at  the  Whitley  cabin 
over  the  return  of  Jack  and  the  doleful  retreat.  To 
give  up  the  Gap,  seemed  like  the  carrying  away  of 
the  gates  of  Gaza,  and  they  knew  well  to  dread  the 
flying  foxes  with  firebrands  at  their  tails.  But 
they  had  learned  to  take  disappointments  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  they  made  the  most  of  their 
meeting.  It  was  near  night  when  Jack  came,  and 
the  supper  was  soon  past,  and  he  and  his  mother 
and  Jennie  and  Cub  sat  together  about  the  fire,  for 
the  night  was  cool,  and  fuel,  thank  God,  was  plenty, 
spite  of  the  war  ! 

Up  on  the  hill  above  the  Sinks,  Ben  Bailey  talked 
with  his  sons,  as  they  sat  in  the  firelight,  but  with 
the  doors  barred  as  ever.  The  old  man  was  bitter 
in  his  comments  on  the  evacuation. 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  251 

"  Nothin'  ter  eat  but  mules  ?  "  he  cried  ;  "wall,  let 
'em  eat  mules,  then  !  Marion  and  his  men  —  yer 
gran  pap  was  one  on  'em  —  would  have  ben  glad 
o'  mules  !  But  talk  o'  bein'  starved  out,  an'  yit 
a-drivin'  off  hull  droves  o'  cattle!  By  mighty, 
hit's  a  shame  !  " 

The  young  men  attempted  some  mild  defence  of 
the  retreat,  when  the  old  man's  ear  caught  a  sound. 
Without  a  word,  and  with  a  gesture  for  silence  and 
obedience,  he  rose,  took  down  his  rifle  and  re- 
volvers, and  slipped  out  through  the  shed  room 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  The  sons  took  their 
guns  and  followed.  A  minute  later  the  house  was 
surrounded  by  armed  men,  who  first  made  sure 
that  every  way  of  escape  was  cut  off,  and  then 
began  demanding  admittance.  Quickly  and  noise- 
lessly the  three  men  slipped  to  the  edge  of  the 
clearing,  where  they  had  a  view  of  the  door,  and 
then  looked  back,  just  as  the  door  was  opened 
from  within   and  a  gleam   of  light  shot  out. 

"  Hit  tain't  the  sojers,  boys,"  said  the  old  man  ; 
"  hit's  Pal  Seagrave's  gang.  We'll  move  over 
the  rocks  an'  down  the  path  to  the  Sinks,  an' 
knock  them   galley  west !     Don't  fire  now  !  " 

There  was  a  howl  of  rage  when  the  guerillas 
gained  the  interior  of  the  house  and  found  that 
Ben  was  not  there.  They  threatened  and  abused 
his  wife  and  daughters,  demanding  to  know  where 
he  was  hidden,  but  could  learn  nothing.  At  that 
moment,  the  sound  of  a  horn  broke  the  silence  of 
the  night,  so  full  and  clear  that  it  must  have  been 
heard  for  miles.  The  band  knew  the  sound  and 
feared  it. 


252  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Less  go,"  they  said. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Seagrave.  "  Before  we  go,  there's 
one  thing  I  kin  do,  anyhow.  I'll  burn  out  this 
vile   nest !     You   women,  git  out  o'   here  !  " 

Driving  them  out,  he  took  the  tongs  and  lifted 
the  forelog  into  the  furthest  corner  of  the  room, 
where  it  soon  began  to  blaze,  then  rolled  out  the 
backlog  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  scattered 
the  brands  in  every  direction.  The  bandits  waited 
to  be  sure  that  the  fire  had  made  such  headway  as 
to  prevent  the  women's  returning  to  put  it  out. 
Afterward  they  hastily  visited  the  still,  and  filled 
their  stomachs  and  canteens,  and  then  rode  down 
the  mountain.  It  was  steep  and  rugged,  and  the 
way  was  narrow  and  rocky.  It  was  the  only  way 
in  which  an  equestrian  could  get  to  or  from  the 
house,  and  a  very  difficult  one  at  that.  Ben  had 
counted  on  this  fact  when  he  decided  to  slip  down 
the  hill  and  give  battle  at  the  Sinks.  From  homes 
near  and  far  men  started  at  the  sound  of  his  horn. 
They  knew  where  to  assemble,  but  had  they  been 
in  doubt,  the  light  from  the  burning  house  soon 
formed  a  second  signal.  No  watch-fire  ever  kindled 
on  Scalp  Dance  Hill  —  and  many  had  been  lighted 
there  in  the  early  days — shone  out  more  widely 
or  brought  more  eager   response   than   that   flame. 

"  Go  up  the  road  to  the  left.  Lew,"  said  Ben, 
"  and  you,  Rastus,  go  to  the  right.  Stop  the  men 
that  come,  an'  have  them  range  to  cover  the  Sinks 
on  both  sides.  Don't  let  a  man  git  by !  Don't 
fire  till  ye  hear  my  gun  from  the  mushroom  rock 
above  the  Sinks.  Then  pick  yer  men,  an'  fire  fast 
an    sure  ! 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  253 

Jack  Casey  sat  by  the  fire  with  his  mother  and 
Jennie.  Cub  had  just  gone  to  bed.  Suddenly  they 
heard  a  sound,  and  Jack  started. 

"What's  that?"   he  asked. 

"  That's  Captain  Ben's  horn,"  said  the  women. 

Jack  took  his  gun  from  the  antlers,  and  started 
without  another  word. 

"  Jack,"  said  his  mother.  He  half  turned  at 
the  door  with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"  Yes,  go,"  she  said. 

Fast  as  Jack  went,  there  were  others  there  before 
him,  and  Lew  Bailey  was  there,  just  as  the  flames 
began  to  break  out  of  the  house,  assigning  the  men 
their  stations  according  to  his  father's  orders.  Others 
came,  some  on  foot  and  some  on  horseback,  till 
there  were  a  dozen  on  that  side,  and  no  less  a  com- 
pany out  of  sight  on  the  other  side.  The  flames 
were  now  leaping  high,  and  the  light  shone  down 
the  mountain,  lighting  the  road  above  the  Sinks  as 
if  it  had  been  noon.  In  his  haste  and  passion.  Pal 
Seagrave  had  lighted  his  own  funeral  pyre.  The 
bandits  felt  their  hearts  quail  as  they  emerged  from 
the  darkness  of  the  long  defile  down  the  mountain 
side  into  the  glare  of  light  that  was  like  the  eye 
of  God.  Yet  they  were  not  without  hope  that 
their  work  had  been  too  quickly  performed  for  the 
gathering  of  any  large  body  of  Ben's  men.  But 
Pal  Seagrave  thought  of  the  man  whom  he  had  shot 
that  day,  and  felt  in  his  heart  that  he  was  riding  to 
his  doom. 

A  hundred  yards  up  the  hill  above  the  Sinks, 
behind  a  rock  that  shaded  and  hid  him,  but  with 
the  whole  scene  in  view,  Ben  Bailey  crouched  with 


254  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

his  rifle  and  two  revolvers.  He  watched  the  caval- 
cade as  it  wound  its  way  down,  the  horses  stumbling 
over  rocks  in  the  haste  of  their  riders;  and  picking 
out  the  hindmost  he  levelled  his  gun  at  him.  Then 
suddenly  changing  his  mind,  he  turned  it  upon  the 
man  at  the  head  of  the  company,  just  as  he  was 
turning  from  the  hill  road  into  the  glare  of  the  main 
road  above  the  Sinks.  He  drew  a  careful  bead. 
The  knife-blade  sight  on  the  muzzle  just  showed  in 
the  notch  of  the  hindsight,  and  he  pulled  the  trigger. 
Pal  Seagrave  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  cry,  and 
reeled  in  his  saddle,  and  fell.  The  men  in  the  rear 
halted  an  instant  in  indecision,  and  the  last  one 
dropped,  struck  by  Ben's  first  pistol  shot.  At  the 
same  instant,  from  both  sides  of  the  road,  there  was 
a  volley  of  bullets,  sent  with  unerring  aim,  out  of 
the  darkness  that  was  like  pitch,  into  the  fatal  glare 
of  light  that  had  come  to  seem  unearthly.  Those 
that  survived  the  first  fire  made  a  wild  rush,  some 
on  one  side  the  Sinks,  and  some  on  the  other,  hop- 
ing to  escape  while  the  men  reloaded ;  but  these 
were  picked  off  by  a  scattering  fire,  and  in  the  rear 
was  Ben  with  his  two  six  shooters,  and  an  aim  that 
never  missed.  It  was  short  and  bloody  work. 
Then  Ben  blew  his  horn,  and,  leaping  to  the  top  of 
the  rock,  gave  his  orders  for  the  securing  the  fright- 
ened horses.  These  were  soon  tethered  to  swing- 
ing limbs,  excepting  those  that  had  escaped  back 
up  the  hill,  which  were  safe  enough,  and  could  be 
found  in  the  morning. 

Then  Ben  came  down  to  the  Sinks,  and  his  men 
gathered  about  him,  amid  the  dead  and  wounded,  — 
if  there  were  any  wounded. 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  255 

"  Men,"  said  Ben,  "we've  done  a  clean  job,  an' 
the  world  is  a  heap  better  off.  An'  hit  won't  do 
nary  grain  o'  good  ter  have  nothin'  said  about  hit, 
considerin'  how  the  war  seems  to  be  goin'.  Stand 
out  here  in  the  light,  every  man  o'  you,  an'  take  off 
yer  hats  with  yer  left  hand,  an'  raise  yer  right  hand 
ter  heaven,  an'  swear  ter  God  that  ye  won't  tell 
livin'  man  what  we've  done,  nor  what  we've  got  ter 
do  yit,  an'  we'll  finish  this  job  while  we're  at  it." 

"  Pa,"  interposed  Lew. 

"  Shet  up  !  "  said  Ben.  "  I  don't  take  my  orders 
from  men  that's  ben  trained  under  officers  that  gives 
up  the  Gap  !  You  an'  Lew  go  up  ter  the  house  an' 
keep  the  women  thar  a  spell,  an'  see  ter  gittin'  'em 
a  place  ter  sleep." 

"  I'll  go  too,"  said  Jack.  "  They  can  stay  at  our 
house  to-night." 

"  Yes,  you  go  too.  We've  got  our  own  ways  o' 
fightin',  an'  know  how  ter  do  it." 

The  young  men  ascended  the  hill,  securing  two 
horses  as  they  went. 

"  What  d'ye  reckon  he  'lows  to  do  ? "  asked 
Jack,  with  a  feeling  of  horror. 

"  The  Sinks,"  said  Lew,  grimly. 

"  Wounded  an'  all  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  I  don't  reckon  we'd  best  ter  ast  wether  they 
be  any  wounded,"  said  Rastus. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  they  found  Mrs.  Bailey 
and  her  three  daughters,  and  conducted  them  by  a 
narrow  and  perilous  foot-path  along  the  ridge  and 
down  to  the  Whitley  home.  There  they  spent  the 
night,  but  no  one  slept  save  Cub.  The  women 
asked   a    few   questions,  and   took   the   enigmatical 


2^6  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

answers  as  did  the  women  in  twenty  other  homes. 
The  fire  burned  down  after  a  while,  and  no  one 
came  up  from  the  Sinks.  Late  arrivals  in  answer 
to  Ben's  horn  were  met  by  sentinels,  saying  that 
the  fire  was  over,  and  they  were  to  go  quietly  back 
to  their  homes.  The  sun  had  risen  before  there 
was  any  return  of  the  men  who  had  been  left  at 
work,  but  there  was  evident  activity  about  the  Sinks 
all  night,  as  shown  by  the  light  of  the  torches. 
Then  the  whole  company  rode  up  to  the  Whitley 
gate,  and  partook  of  the  corn  pones  which  Eliza- 
beth had  baked  for  them,  anticipating  their  need  of 
a  warm  bite  as  they  went  home.  They  came  to 
the  fence  and  stopped  for  a  moment.  Every  man 
was  mounted,  and  those  who  -had  ridden  the  night 
before,  now  each  led  a  horse.  There  was  not  a 
word  about  the  fight. 

"  We  had  a  right  bad  fire,  didn't  we  ?  "  asked 
Job  Crosby. 

"  Yes,"  said  young  Moses  Davis,  with  a  faint 
facetiousness.  "  Wha'  d'ye  reckon  sot  it  ?  Light- 
nm  r 

"No,  ye  fool,"  said  Captain  Ben,  "they  warn't 
no  lightnin'  las'  night.  The  forelog  rolled  out  onter 
the  floor,  an'  the  house  ketched  from  that." 

That  remained  the  authentic  explanation,  and  the 
fire  on  Scalp  Dance  Hill  entered  into  the  history 
of  the  Holler  without  specific  mention  of  attendant 
circumstances.  There  was  a  raising  a  few  days  after, 
and  Captain  Ben  furnished  his  new  home,  quite  as 
well  as  his  old  abode,  with  the  proceeds  of  two 
horses  which  he  sold,  —  the  one  in  London,  and  the 
other  at  Barboursville,  —  and  the  still  was  again  in 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks.      Page  257. 


The  Secret  of  the  Sinks  257 

successful  operation,  as  the  good  feehng  at  the  rais- 
ing attested. 

The  two  bands  of  Seagrave  and  Jackson  were 
missed  at  once  from  the  neighborhood,  and  the 
story  that  they  had  fallen  in  with  the  rear  of  the 
Confederate  army  accounted  for  their  absence  to 
complete  satisfaction.  But  this  information  was 
conveyed  with  a  quiet  suggestion  that  their  return 
need  not  be  expected.  The  Holler  breathed  more 
freely  after  that,  and  one  horror  of  the  war  was  re- 
moved. As  to  what  finally  became  of  them,  there 
are  two  theories  extant  —  one  that  they  joined 
"John  Morgan's  Horse-thieves"  in  a  body,  and 
were  killed  or  captured  in  one  of  his  raids  ;  and  the 
other  that  perhaps  old  Ben  knew  something  about  it. 

Jack  and  the  Bailey  boys  went  on  that  day  and 
rejoined  their  regiment  near  Manchester.  They 
noticed  as  they  passed  the  Sinks  that  there  was 
fresh  earth  here  and  there  that  might  have  covered 
blood  stains,  and  that  certain  rocks  were  wet  from 
recent  washing;  but  there  were  no  other  signs  of  the 
conflict,  and  the  Sinks  seemed  to  moan  more  sadly 
than  was  their  wont,  but  told  no  tales. 


XXIII 

In  Secret  Service 

THE  winter  of  1862  found  Jack  and  his 
Kentucky  friends  with  their  regiments  in 
Nashville.  General  George  W.  Morgan 
had  fallen  under  criticism  for  his  desertion 
of  Cumberland  Gap,  and  had  been  relieved  from 
his  command.  General  Buell  had  been  censured 
for  not  following  up  his  victory  at  Perryville,  and 
for  allowing  Bragg  and  Smith  to  leave  Kentucky 
with  rich  stores  of  provisions  and  hundreds  of  fine 
horses,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  Rosecrans. 
Andrew  Johnson  was  opposed  to  Carter,  and  had 
asked  to  have  him  removed  to  make  room  for 
General  Spears  ;  and  Carter  was  placed  in  command 
of  a  hastily  organized  brigade  of  cavalry,  with  which 
he  made  a  brilliant  raid  into  East  Tennessee,  and 
returned  with  his  small  command  to  Kentucky. 
Meantime  his  old  brigade  was  taken  to  the  front, 
and  for  a  time  hung  in  mid-air  with  little  to  do  or 
hope  for. 

A  feeling  of  discouragement  had  settled  on  the 
army  and  the  country.  Men  were  deserting  by 
thousands.  Soldiers  surrendered  without  provoca- 
tion for  the  sake  of  being  paroled,  and  thus  released 
from  further  military  duty.  The  army  had  lost 
confidence  in  its  leaders  and  in  its  own  esprit  de 
corps.     The  idea  of  a  ninety  days'  picnic  was  efFectu- 

258 


In  Secret  Service  259 

ally  gone,  and  in  its  place  as  yet  had  come  no  spirit, 
such  as  afterward  manifested  itself,  of  intense  and 
dogged  patriotism,  capable  of  enduring  a  series  of 
reverses. 

"  Looky  yan.  Jack  !"  cried  Joe  Hallet  one  day. 
"  See  them  fellers  in  nightcaps  !  " 

A  dozen  men  in  uniform,  with  white  cotton  night- 
caps on  their  heads,  were  marching  down  the  streets 
of  Nashville  and  among  the  camps,  preceded  by  a 
fife  and  drum  playing  "  Dixie,"  and  followed  by  a 
band  of  hooting  little  darkies. 

"Who  d'ye  reckon  them  fellers  be  ?  "  asked  Eph 
Whitley. 

"  Some  fellers  in  disgrace,  I  reckon,"  answered 
Jack. 

Inquiry  developed  the  fact  that  these  were  men 
who  had  surrendered  for  the  sake  of  being  paroled, 
and  on  their  return  to  camp  they  had  been  sentenced 
to  bear  this  punishment  by  order  of  General  Rose- 
crans.  The  incident  had  its  result  in  a  very  general 
discouragement  of  needless  paroles. 

"  We  hain't  the  only  fellers  that  surrenders  to 
keep  from  fightin',"  said  Lew  Bailey. 

"  We  hain't  the  fellers  that  does  it  a  tall,"  said 
Jack. 

"I  know  we  hain't;  but  I  meant  the  rebs  does 
hit  as  well  as  the  Yanks." 

"  That's  so.  They  git  mighty  tard  o'  the  war ; 
'specially  them  that's  ben  forced  inter  the  army." 

"  Warn't  hit  you.  Jack,  that  marched  them  seven 
fellers  inter  camp  at  the  Gap  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  warn't  but  mighty  little  credit  to 
me,"  said  Jack. 


26o  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"I  never  heerd  jes'  huccum  ye  to  git  'em.  How 
was  It  r 

"I've  tole  it  a  heap  o'  times,"  said  Jack;  "I 
reckoned  all  the  fellers  had  heerd  it.  I'm  shame- 
faced to  tell  it  agin." 

Most  of  his  companions  in  the  barracks  had  heard 
it ;  but  a  good  story  was  much  prized  in  those  days 
of  camp  tedium,  and  Jack  told  his  adventure. 

"  Wall,  it  was  when  we  was  holdin'  the  Gap,  an' 
meant  to  keep  a-holdin'  it.  One  day,  long  in  the 
last  o'  August,  I  got  outside  the  lines  down  by 
Powell's  River,  an'  I  got  sorter  tard  walkin'  an'  was 
powerful  hot,  an'  I  come  to  a  place  whar  the  water 
run  deep,  an'  looked  cool  an'  nice,  an'  thinks  I,  I'll 
jes'  have  a  swim.  So  I  tuk  off  my  does,  an'  went 
in.  I  didn't  'low  they  was  a  reb  in  ten  mile  o'  where 
I  was,  an'  I  splashed,  an'  dove,  an'  had  a  mighty 
good  time.  I  hadn't  had  a  swim  all  summer,  an' 
it  felt  mighty  good.  Wall,  I  was  in  there,  an' 
a-gittin'  'bout  ready  to  come  out,  an'  I  looks  up  ter 
the  bank,  an'  I  sees  some  fellers  in  but' nut  come 
down  to  the  bank  where  my  does  was.  They  pinted 
thar  guns  at  me,  an'  yelled,  — 

"  '  Hey,  thar,  you  infernal  Yank  !  Come  in  outen 
the  wet ! ' 

"  Wall,  thinks  I,  they  hain't  no  use  a-talkin',  I 
cyan't  fight  a  hull  reg'maint,  naked  as  I  was.  So  I 
says,  '  I  s'render.  Lemme  come  ashore  an'  git  on 
my  does,'  says  I.  So  I  went  ashore,  an'  they  stud 
around  me  while  I  dressed,  sorter  pokin'  fun  at  me 
fur  gettin'  ketched  thataway,  an'  I  was  a-feelin' 
mighty  peaked  myself  When  I  got  my  does  on, 
one  on  'em  says, 


In  Secret  Service  261 

"  *  You're  mighty  shore  you've  s'rendered,  be  ye  ? ' 

"'  I  hain't  no  manner  o'  doubt  of  it,'  says  I.  '  I 
wisht  I  had.' 

" '  Wall,'  says  he,  an'  he  an'  t'other  fellers  was 
sorter  a-laughin'  all  the  while.  '  So  do  we,'  says 
he.  *  Thishyer  war's  played  out,'  says  he.  '  We've 
had  ter  fight  so  fur,'  says  he,  '  or  go  south  ter 
prison ;  but  it's  gittin'  mighty  tarsome,'  says  he. 
'  Now,'  says  he,  '  we're  your  prisoners,  an'  you  jes' 
surround  us,  an'  take  us  inter  camp.'  So  I  tuck 
'em  ter  camp.  They  warn't  but  seven  on  'em  when 
I  come  to  count  'em  ;  but  when  I  was  in  the  water, 
an'  they  had  their  guns  pinted  at  me,  'peared  lack 
they  was  a  reg'maint." 

"  What  did  they  do  with  'em  in  camp  ? "  asked 
a  soldier. 

"  I  d'livered  'em  up  to  Cun'l  Byrd ;  an'  he  says, 
'  It's  a  plumb  shame  to  send  them  fellers  north  to 
prison,'  says  he.  '  I'll  parole  'em  an'  send  'em 
home,'  says  he.  But  they  dassent  go  home,  that 
was  the  trouble.  So  he  ast  Gin'ral  Carter  'bout  it ; 
an'  Carter  he  sends  fur  me,  an'  he  says  to  the 
men,  '  Whar  ye  from  ? '  says  he.  '  From  Morgan 
County,  East  Tennessy,'  says  they.  '  I  know 
Morgan  County,'  says  he.  '  They  hain't  no  rebels 
there,'  says  he.  *  We  was  rebels  'cause  we  hadter 
be,'  says  they.  '  We're  in  favor  o'  the  Union,'  says 
they  ;  '  but  last  Apri/*?  we  was  a-tryin'  to  git  inter 
Kaintuck  to  enlist,  an'  we  was  captured,  an'  gin 
our  choice  to  go  south  to  prison,  or  to  enlist ; 
an'  we  enHsted  fer  the  rebels.'  '  Wall,'  says  Carter, 
'  I'd  parole  ye  ef  I  could  send  ye  home.  But  that 
hain't  no  use :    they'd  pester  ye   to   death.'      Says 


262  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

he,  '  Would  ye  enlist  in  the  Union  army  ef  ye  had 
a  chance  ? '  They  all  said  they'd  be  glad  to  do  it, 
an'  he  tuck  'em  in. 

"  An'  I  bet  a  pone  he  hadn't  no  better  men  than 
them  was,  too." 

"  While  you  was  foolin'  'round  the  Gap,"  said 
Eph,  "  we  fellers  was  ketchin'  it  at  Richmond  and 
Perryville." 

"  I  reckon  Perryville  was  right  smart  of  a  scrim- 
mage," said  Jack. 

"  Ef  any  man's  ben  in  a  fight  like  that,"  said 
Eph,  "an'  says  he  wants  another,  he's  a  blame  liar." 

"  You  must  a  got  badly  skeered  there,"  said  Jack. 

"  1  was  skeered  to  death  fus'  gun  went  off.  Afore 
night  I  didn't  mind  it  no  more'n  the  blowin'  o'  the 
wind.  But  I  warn't  any  less  skeered.  A  feller  gits 
so  skeered  atter  while  hit  skeers  all  the  skeer  outen 
him." 

"You  warn't  skeered,  war  you.  Lew?"  asked 
Jack.  "  I've  heerd  you  stood  up  behind  the  wall 
when  every  feller  that  showed  an  inch  o'  hat  was 
shot  through  the  head,  an'  you  yelled  to  the  fellers 
not  to  run." 

"  So  skeered  I  didn't  know  whether  I  was  foot 
or  hossback." 

"  It  takes  a  brave  man,"  said  Jack,  "to  own  that 
he  is  skeered." 

"  I  dunno  wy  a  feller  should  be  skeered,"  said 
Zeke  Holcomb,  who  was  a  notorious  coward  in 
time  of  danger,  but  a  man  of  prodigious  courage 
afterward.    "  I  fit  at  Perryville,  an'  I  warn't  skeered." 

"  Ye  hadn't  no  call  ter  be,"  said  Sim  Galloway, 
who  was  lately  returned  from  his  wound. 


In  Secret  Service  263 

"  Where  was  you,  at  Perryville,  Sim  ? "  asked 
Jack. 

"  I  was  part  way  in  a  holler  log,  bigges'  part  the 
time,"  said  Sim.  They  looked  at  his  pale  face  and 
laughed,  for  they  knew  how  he  had  received  his 
nearly  fatal  wound. 

"  Why  didn't  ye  git  clar  in,  Sim  ?  "  asked  Eph. 

"  I  got  in  as  fur's  I  could,"  said  Sim,  quietly. 
"  Zeke   Hocum  was  in  ahead  o'  me." 

Sim  seldom  indulged  in  a  joke ;  but  this  one 
made  his  reputation  as  a  humorist,  and  Roundstone 
quotes  it  to  this  day  concerning  Zeke  Holcomb 
and  his  descendants. 

"  You  fellers  that  fit  at  Perryville  didn't  waste  no 
love  on  Gin'ral  Buell,  did  ye  ?  "  asked  Jack,  as  the 
laugh  ceased. 

"  Ye  could  put  it  all  in  yer  eye,"  said  Eph. 
"  Ever  see  him  ?  " 

"  I  seed  him  wunct,"  said  Lew.  "  While  we  was 
a-movin'  to-wards  Perryville  a  new  reg'maint — the 
75th  Eelinois  —  stopped  at  a  well  ter  fill  their  can- 
teens. We  was  right  behind,  and  they  was  delayin' 
the  hull  column.  Buell  he  rode  up  an'  ordered 
'em  ter  move  on.  But  they  was  plumb  crazy  fur 
water.  Buell  he  tries  ter  ride  up  to  the  well  ter  cut 
off  the  bucket,  an'  he  couldn't  force  his  hoss  through. 
I  seed  them  fellers  look  at  him,  tryin'  ter  ride  over 
'em,  an'  heerd  some  on  'em  swar  ter  kill  him  the 
fus'  battle.  That  same  reg'maint  was  put  in  the 
front  at  Perryville,  —  raw  men,  jes'  out  from  home 
—  an'  they  fit  well.  They  lost  three  hundred  men 
that  day." 

"  I   seed  Buell  fust  dav  o'  the  Perryville  fight," 


2,64  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

said  Eph.  "  We'd  had  a  scrimmage  to  get  to  a 
puddle  in  the  dry  bed  o'  Doctor's  Creek.  We'd 
druv  off  the  rebs,  an'  got  a  drink,  an'  filled  our 
canteens.  Wen  we  got  inter  camp  I  says  to  myself, 
'  I'd  as  lives  have  half  that  water  outside  o'  me  as 
inside,'  an'  I  poured  out  half  a  canteen  full  inter  a 
tin,  an'  got  off  my  shirt  for  a  bath.  Jes'  then  some 
one  stopped  afore  the  tent  an'  yelled,  '  Pour  back 
that  water!'  I  looked  out,  an'  thar  sot  Gin'ral 
Buell.  Says  he,  'When  men  are  fightin'  an'  dyin' 
for  a  drink,  water's  too  sacred  to  use  fur  a  bath.' 
I  poured  hit  back  inter  my  canteen,  an'  next  mornin' 
I  needed  it  for  wounded  men." 

"He  had  mighty  little  patience  with  new  men," 
said  Jack ;  "  but  he  was  a  brave  man  an'  a  good 
gin'ral.  You  lost  your  flag  at  Perryville,  didn't  you, 
Eph  ?  " 

"  Lost  hit  by  gittin'  it  shot  to  pieces.  That  was 
the  flag  the  Gov'maint  furnished.  We  still  got  the 
one  the  women  made." 

"  You  best  keep  that,  or  you'll  ketch  Jesse  from 
Joe  and  Becky." 

An  orderly  came  up  to  the  door  of  the  barracks, 
and  asked  for  Jackson  Casey. 

"  That's  me,"  said  Jack. 

"You  are  commanded  to  report  for  immediate 
duty  at  the  office  of  Colonel  Truesdail,"  said  the 
messenger. 

"  Who's  he  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  Don't  you  know  who  Colonel  Truesdail  is  ? 
He  is  the  chief  of  the  army  police,"  said  the  orderly. 

"All  right,  I'll  go.  Good-by,  boys.  I'll  meet 
ye  in  Chattanoogy  an'  keep  Christmas  week." 


In  Secret  Service  265 

"  Good-by,  Jack,  ef  ye  don'  come  back.  Hanged 
ef  I  don'  wish  he'd  send  fur  me.  I'm  tard  a-doin' 
nothin'." 

Jack  promptly  reported,  and  was  made  acquainted 
with  his  business.  The  chief  of  the  secret  service 
watched  him  narrowly  as  he  talked. 

"  Did  General  Carter  send  you  on  special  service 
into  the  enemy's  country  last  spring  ^  " 

"  Yessir." 

"  You  are  a  Tennesseean  ?  " 

"  Yessir.     Easi  Tennessy." 

"  I  want  you  to  go  with  another  man,  whom  I 
have  sent  for,  and  who  will  be  here  soon,  and  find 
what  you  can  of  the  movements  of  the  rebel  forces 
about  Murfreesboro.  Find  whether  they  are  going 
into  winter  quarters,  or  are  likely  to  attack  us.  Find 
the  condition  of  their  horses,  the  feeling  of  their 
troops,  and  the  sentiment  of  the  people  between 
here  and  there.  Keep  to  the  east  of  Murfreesboro. 
Don't  try  to  enter  the  rebel  lines.  I  have  other 
men  who  are  to  do  that.  I  have  yet  others  who 
are  to  observe  their  movements  to  the  west.  Go 
as  far  as  Smithville,  and  if  you  are  able,  get  on  to 
McMinnville,  and  be  back  in  a  week.  The  man 
with  whom  I  send  you  is  a  man  I  know,  a  Ken- 
tuckian  named  Abe  Ryan.  He  ought  to  be  here 
now.  Here  he  comes.  No,  I  am  mistaken.  Stay 
here  till  I  return." 

The  colonel  rose  and  greeted  the  man  who  en- 
tered. "  Good  morning,  Captain  Garnett,"  he  said, 
and  the  two  retired  together  to  an  inner  room, 
where  they  were  closeted  for  some  time.  Jack 
marked  this  man  Garnett  well.      He  was  tall,  dark, 


266  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

and  reserved,  but  had  an  eye  that  took  in  every 
detail  of  his  surroundings,  and  Jack  took  him  at 
once   to   be  a  spy  of  importance. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged,  an  orderly  showed 
another  man  into  the  room  where  Jack  was  sitting. 
Jack  conjectured  that  the  newcomer  was  his  com- 
panion, Abe  Ryan,  and  this  conjecture  proved 
correct. 

Soon  Colonel  Truesdail  came  to  the  door,  and 
parted  from   his  guest  on  the  threshold. 

"  From  now  until  Christmas,"  said  he,  "  give  us 
every  possible  detail.  But  do  not  needlessly  risk 
yourself.  Remember,  you  play  against  heavy 
odds." 

The  dark  man  said  little,  but  went  out,  and  the 
two  men  in  waiting  were  invited  in. 

Colonel  Truesdail  explained  their  duties  more  at 
length.  They  were  to  proceed  in  citizen's  cloth- 
ing around  the  Confederate  army,  taking  note  of 
the  outposts  and  sources  of  supply,  observing  the 
country,  and  learning  what  they  could  from  the 
people.  They  were  to  keep  together,  if  possible, 
and  if  they  separated  from  force  of  circumstances, 
they  should  make  their  way  back  as  best  they 
could,  with  all  the  information  they  could  gather. 
Their  ostensible  errand  south  was  to  look  after 
property  in  Chattanooga,  concerning  which  the 
colonel  had  information  in  captured  papers. 
They  were  to  impersonate  the  two  sons  of  a 
man  who  had  recently  died  there,  coming  from 
Kentucky  to  attend  to  their  father's  estate.  The 
clippings  from  some  Chattanooga  papers,  with 
certain   captured    letters   which    he    gave    to    them, 


In   Secret  Service  267 

were  to  be  their  vouchers  if  they  needed  to  account 
for  themselves. 

Studying  these,  they  were  able  to  make  a  very 
fair  story  of  their  errand,  and  donning  the  clothes 
provided  for  them,  dark  gray  suits  of  Kentucky 
jeans,  they  set  forth. 

They  spent  their  first  night  with  a  man  named 
Hooper,  suspected  of  being  a  rebel  sympathizer, 
who  lived  on  the  bank  of  Sam's  Creek,  some 
twenty  miles  from  Nashville.  They  found  these 
suspicions  unjust.  Hooper  was  a  true  Union  man, 
and  poor  almost  to  the  point  of  starvation,  and  ac- 
cepted gladly  the  money  they  paid  him  for  their 
lodging,  yet  with  regret  that  his  poverty  made 
necessary  any  limit  to  his  hospitality.  From  him 
they  learned  of  the  frequent  escape  of  Confederate 
prisoners  confined  in  the  penitentiary  at  Nashville, 
and  of  the  way  in  which  they  were  set  across  the 
river  by  a  neighbor  named  Rook. 

Still  further  south  they  found  what  had  been  a 
good  farming  country  well  stripped  of  provisions 
by  the  Confederates,  who  seemed  to  be  massing 
at  Murfreesboro.  The  third  night  they  stayed 
together  in  a  little  tavern  in  Smithville.  They 
had  proceeded  without  molestation,  and  were  gain- 
ing information  every  hour.  Another  day's  ad- 
vance, they  thought,  would  be  enough,  and  would 
enable  them  to  return  by  another  route,  and  they 
hoped  with  equal  security. 

They  went  to  the  dingy  little  room  that  was 
assigned  them,  and  found  no  lock  on  the  door. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Ryan,  "  I've  got  a  little 
trick  here  that's  good  for  that." 


268  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

He  shut  the  door,  and  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
gimlet,  which  he  screwed  into  the  crack  between  the 
door  and  the  casing,  turning  the  handle  so  as  to 
leave  a  bar  across  the  edge  of  the  door. 

They  removed  their  outer  clothing  and  lay  down  ; 
but  they  were  hardly  asleep  before  there  was  a  pound- 
ing at  the  door. 

"  Hey,  thar,  you  blamed  Yankee  spies  !  "  cried 
a  voice  without.  "  Open  this  door,  or  we'll  knock 
It  m  ! 

They  rose  in  haste  and  silence,  drawing  on  their 
boots  and  coats. 

"  The  winder  !  "   whispered  Jack. 

"  Yes  !  "   said  Ryan. 

The  pounding  at  the  door  was  increasing,  and 
there  were  calls  for  an  axe  to  break  it  in,  when  they 
raised  the  sash,  and  slipped  through,  dropping  upon 
the  low  roof  of  the  kitchen,  which  was  directly  under. 
Here  they  crawled  to  the  eaves,  and  dropped  to  the 
ground  on  the  back  side  of  the  hotel,  but  saw,  as 
they  slid  down  the  shingles,  that  the  front  of  the 
hotel  was  guarded  by  a  squad  of  cavalry  with  pine 
torches.  The  night  was  dark,  and  it  was  difficult 
to  keep  together.  The  torches  of  the  soldiers  served 
the  spies  well,  for  they  marked  the  position  of  their 
pursuers.  The  two  sides  of  the  hotel  that  were  on 
streets  were  guarded,  but  there  were  no  torches  in 
sight  to  the  rear.  The  prospect  of  escape  seemed 
good,  but  the  barking  of  a  dog  in  the  stable  yard 
brought  a  torch  around  the  house,  just  as  the  crash 
of  the  door  showed  to  the  soldiers  inside  the  vacant 
room,  and  thus  marked  at  once  their  escape  and  the 
way  by  which  they  had  gone. 


In  Secret  Service  269 

Across  fences  and  fields  they  made  their  way, 
making  pursuit  difficult,  but  losing  all  sense  of  direc- 
tion, and  eventually  finding  themselves  pursued  as 
they  emerged  into  the  road,  taking  opposite  directions, 
and  losing  each  other  in  the  dark.  Ryan  found  his 
way  towards  Hartsville,  and  after  six  days  of  wander- 
ing returned  to  Nashville.  Jack  wandered  all  night, 
and  when  the  morning  broke,  and  he  was  able  to 
take  his  bearings,  he  judged  that  he  was  proceeding 
toward  Murfreesboro,  a  conjecture  which  he  veri- 
fied at  a  cabin  where  he  inquired  of  two  elderly 
people.  There  he  obtained  some  food,  but  not 
without  being  asked  questions,  which  showed  that 
his  hosts  were  on  the  side  of  the  south  and  sus- 
pected him.  He  paid  for  his  meal,  and  bought 
two  pones  that  were  in  sight  on  the  table,  and 
stuffed  them  in  his  pockets.  The  old  couple 
warmed  a  little  at  sight  of  his  money,  but  appar- 
ently were  the  more  suspicious  of  him  for  having  it. 

Jack  hastened  away,  certain  that  any  inquiries 
made  about  him  there  would  be  rewarded  with 
exact  information  concerning  him.  He  had  told 
his  Chattanooga  story,  and  started  south  toward 
where  the  road  would  lead  into  a  pike.  But  com- 
ing to  the  pike,  he  paused  to  consider  his  situation. 
He  had  nothing  now  to  gain  by  going  south,  so  he 
turned  his  face  northward  and  followed  the  pike. 

He  soon  became  convinced  that  he  was  pursued. 
Bands  of  horsemen  were  riding  along  the  pike  in- 
quiring at  houses  as  they  went,  and  keeping  a  sharp 
lookout  at  the  sides  of  the  road.  At  the  top  of 
every  hill  he  came  to  the  pike,  and  took  a  look 
about  and  then  left  the  pike  for  the  field  or  wood. 


270  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  as  he  emerged  from  a 
field  that  had  grown  up  to  scrub  oak  and  sassafras, 
he  came  back  to  the  pike  at  the  top  of  a  knoll,  to 
find  horses  tethered  to  the  fence  upon  the  oppo- 
site side.  He  drew  back  into  the  bushes  and 
looked  again.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  was 
a  small  cemetery,  and  a  score  or  more  of  people  were 
gathered  about  an  open  grave.  There  were  three 
carriages  and  a  dozen  horses.  Jack  thought  quickly. 
He  would  get  down  to  the  road,  where  the  pike  cut 
through  the  hill,  and  mount  one  of  the  saddle- 
horses  and  ride  away.  He  slipped  down  into  the 
low  cut.  He  was  so  near  that  he  could  hear  the 
weeping  of  the  friends  about  the  grave,  and  the  tones 
of  the  burial  service  which  the  minister  was  repeating. 

Jack  hesitated  as  he  stood  with  his  hand  on  a 
bridle.  To  steal  a  horse  was,  of  course,  to  be 
pursued  at  once,  and  while  he  could  make  a  few 
miles  better  progress,  it  was  only  to  have  his  way 
ahead  made  more  difficult.  He  looked  about  again, 
and  now  saw  that  one  of  the  carriages  was  of  a  pattern 
new  to  him.  Such  a  thing  as  a  hearse  was  unknown 
in  his  part  of  Tennessee,  and  at  another  place  he 
might  not  have  been  able  to  imagine  its  use ; 
but  its  shape  and  the  nature  of  the  occasion  told 
him  at  a  glance.  It  was  long  and  low,  with  a 
narrow  pane  of  glass  on  either  side,  but  there  was 
ample  opportunity  for  a  man  to  hide  within.  He 
quickly  undid  the  door  and  crawled  inside,  fasten- 
ing the  door  behind  him,  and  was  hardly  within 
before  the  people  began  descending  from  the 
cemetery,  and  the  driver  of  the  hearse  untied  his 
horses  and  mounted  the  box. 


In  Secret  Service  271 

"  Hello,  there  !  "  Jack  heard  the  voice  with  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  beside  the  hearse.  The  driver 
reined  in.  They  had  gone  not  twenty  rods  from 
the  cemetery. 

"  Have  you  seen  a  man  go  along  the  pike 
afoot  ?  " 

"  Nary  un.     Who  d'ye  want  ?  " 

"  I'm  hunting  a  Yankee  spy,  and  he's  come  this 
way." 

"  I  hain't  seed  him,"  said  the  driver,  and  started 
on.  Jack  gripped  the  hilt  of  his  pistol  and  waited 
the  issue,  but  there  was  no  further  inquiry.  They 
passed  a  sentinel.  They  were  within  the  Confed- 
erate lines.  They  entered  a  town.  The  short  day 
drew  to  a  close,  and  night  had  fallen  when  the 
driver  unhitched  his  horses,  and  backed  the  hearse 
into  a  shed,  growling  that  it  seemed  unusually 
heavy. 


XXIV 

Out  of  the  Frying  Pan 

JACK  crawled  out  of  the  hearse,  cramped  and 
cold,  and  cautiously  crept  into  the  village. 
No  great  time  was  required  to  convince  him 
that  he  was  in  Murfreesboro,  the  headquar- 
ters of  General  Bragg.  His  sensations  were  most 
unpleasant.  He  crept  along  the  shadow  of  the 
houses,  uncomfortable  and  perplexed.  Soon,  how- 
ever, his  blood  began  to  move,  and  with  it  his 
courage  rose.  The  streets  were  full  of  life.  Sol- 
diers, citizens,  and  women  of  the  town  mingled  and 
moved  to  and  fro,  with  happy  conversation  and 
unrestrained  laughter.  The  people  whom  he  first 
met  regarded  him  with  no  suspicion,  and  Jack  at 
length  ceased  to  avoid  them.  It  was  ten  days  before 
Christmas,  and  Murfreesboro  was  in  her  best 
clothes  and  happiest  spirits.  Jefferson  Davis  had 
just  been  upon  a  visit  there,  and  people  were 
coming  and  going  from  every  part  ot  the  South. 
The  town  had  never  been  so  festive.  The  sight  of 
so  much  good  cheer  could  but  infect  Jack  with 
something  of  its  own  contagion. 

Moreover,  he  said  to  himself,  while  it  might 
have  been  hard  enough  for  him  to  have  gotten 
inside  the  Confederate  lines  in  any  ordinary  way, 
and  quite  as  hard  to  get  out,  being  in,  he  was 
probably  in  as  safe  a  place  as  he  could  find  south  of 

272 


Out  of  the   Frying  Pan  273 

Nashville.  Emboldened  by  the  thought,  he  walked 
openly  upon  the  street,  meeting  people  as  he  had 
occasion,  and  attracting  no  attention.  So  he  re- 
called to  himself  his  ostensible  errand,  and  prepared 
to  give  such  account  of  himself  as  might  be  neces- 
sary. He  went  to  the  City  Hotel,  a  brick  struct- 
ure on  the  public  square.  It  was  full,  but  they 
directed  him  to  another  and  less  pretentious  tavern. 

"Yes,  I  reckon  we  can  take  care  of  you,"  said 
the  genial  proprietor  ;  "  but  we're  mighty  full.  Got 
two  in  mighty  nigh  every  room.  We  can  eat  you 
all  right,  but  I  ain't  right  sure  if  we  can  sleep  you. 
D'ye  mind  goin'  in  with  another  good  man  ?  Mr. 
Coburn,  can  you  take  in  a  bed-feller  ?  Here's  a 
gentleman  from  Kentucky,  just  got  in  from  Chat- 
tanoogy,  —  missed  the  stage  an'  got  in  late.  He 
looks  sorter  peaceable.  I  reckon  I'll  put  him  in 
with  you,  if  nary  one  of  you  mind.  Mr.  Coburn, 
make  you  'quainted  with  Mr.  Saunders.  If  you 
two  men  have  any  trouble  together,  jest  call  on  me. 
I'll  settle  matters." 

Jack  turned  to  meet  his  new  room-mate,  a  pleas- 
ant, well-dressed  young  fellow  who  wore  his  hat  on 
the  side  of  his  head,  and  removing  it  to  shake  hands 
with  Jack  revealed  his  hair  well  oiled  and  brushed 
low  upon  his  forehead.  He  was  a  bit  of  a  dandy, 
and  looked  for  a  moment  askance  at  Jack's  clothes, 
but  was  reassured  by  his  face  and  manner. 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Saunders,"  he  said  to 
Jack.      "  I  reckon  we  can  get  on  together." 

"  I  reckon  so,"  said  Jack.  "  I  can  stand  it  ef 
you  can." 

They  went   to  their   room,  and   Jack   made   his 


274  ^  Hero  in   Homespun 

toilet.  He  told  his  story,  how  he  had  been  to 
Chattanooga  to  settle  his  father's  estate  and  was  try- 
ing to  get  back  to  Kentucky,  but  had  no  passes 
further,  and  must  wait  for  them  to  come. 

"  No  trouble  to  get  passes  here,"  said  Coburn. 
"  I  can  get  you  all  you  want  in  a  week  or  two.  But 
the  trouble  is  to  get  through  the  Union  lines." 

"  I  can  get  through  them,"  said  Jack,  "  if  I  can 
get  out  of  here." 

"  How  ?  "   asked  Coburn. 

"  I  ain't  right  sure  how,"  said  Jack,  remembering 
that  he  would  better  not  be  too  confident.  "  I'll 
wait  a  day  or  two  and  see  what  comes  to  me." 

Coburn  told  his  story  with  equal  readiness.  He 
had  been  in  Murfreesboro  several  weeks  on  busi- 
ness connected  with  an  army  contract.  He  had 
come  to  know  the  guests  of  the  tavern,  a  number  of 
army  officers,  and  a  good  many  people  of  the  village. 
He  seemed  to  have  money,  and,  while  not  over- 
burdened with  wit,  was  withal  a  pleasant  companion. 
Jack  saw  that  he  looked  again  at  his  clothes. 

"  I  must  get  some  new  clothes,"  he  said.  "  I  had 
a  sorter  hard  time  gettin'  here,  and  got  these  tore 
and  soiled." 

"  I'll  go  with  you  to-night,  if  you  say  so,"  said 
Coburn,  "  and  help  you  pick  out  some.  I  know 
the  best  place  in  town." 

Jack  gladly  accepted  the  offer.  He  was  well 
supplied  with  money,  and  the  suit  which  he  pur- 
chased was  within  his  means  ;  but  all  clothing  cost 
money  in  the  South  just  then,  and  Coburn's  taste 
was  less  modest  than  his  own. 

It  thus  came  to  pass  that  Jack's  first  appearance 


Out  of  the  Frying  Pan  275 

in  Murfreesboro  by  daylight  was  in  good  attire,  and 
he  could  not  help  noticing  as  he  was  shaving  before 
the  glass  that  he  was  not  an  ill-looking  fellow. 
Coburn  noticed  it,  too,  and  with  satisfaction.  He 
began  at  once  to  assume  the  air  of  proprietorship 
over  Jack,  and  show  him  about  and  introduce  him 
to  his  own  acquaintances  as  "  Mr.  Saunders,  my 
friend  from  Kentucky."  However  pleasant  or  valu- 
able such  a  friendship  might  have  been  at  another 
time,  Jack  was  not  minded  to  reject  it  now,  and  it 
proved  for  him  the  Open  Sesame  to  a  somewhat 
wide  acquaintance.  After  breakfast  he  cautiously 
referred  again  to  the  subject  of  a  pass. 

"  No  trouble  about  that,"  again  said  Coburn,  "  but 
we  must  wait  a  spell  till  things  settle  down,  and 
we  know  for  sure  that  Rosecrans  is  goin'  into 
winter  quarters  at  Nashville.  Then  it'll  be  easy 
enough.  You  got  to  wait  anyhow,  and  things  will 
be  all  right  here  by  the  time  you  get  word  from 
Kentucky." 

"I  was  hopin'  to  get  home  for  Christmas,"  said 
Jack. 

"  It'll  be  too  late  for  that,"  said  Coburn ;  "  but 
you'll  have  a  right  merry  one  here." 

Jack  was  not  altogether  happy  about  it.  He 
knew  that  Rosecrans  had  no  thought  of  going  into 
winter  quarters.  Still  his  situation  was  so  much 
better  than  he  had  any  right  to  hope,  that  he  pos- 
sessed his  soul  in  patience,  and  went  for  a  walk 
about  town. 

Walking  in  front  of  a  fashionable  house  on  Main 
Street,  he  saw  the  door  open,  and  a  man  come  out 
whom  he  had  seen  before.     Behind  him  in  the  door 


276  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

stood  the  hostess  and  several  friends,  some  of  them 
Confederate  officers. 

"  Good-by,"  said  the  hostess,  in  a  tone  of  good- 
natured  raillery.  "  I  just  believe  you're  going  off 
so's  to  get  shut  of  giving  me  a  Christmas  gift." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  the  departing  guest;  "I'm 
coming  back  before  Christmas,  and  I'll  bring  you 
something." 

"  Don't  believe  him,"  laughed  one  of  the  officers. 
"  He  looks  solemn,  but  he's  a  gay  deceiver." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  lady ;  "  out  of  sight,  out  of 
mind." 

"  I'll  be  in  sight  again  soon.  A  bad  penny,  you 
know.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by."     And  the  door  closed  behind  him. 

Jack's  heart  beat  fast.  He  slackened  his  pace 
till  he  saw  that  the  man  was  coming  his  way,  then 
moved  ahead  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  overtaken. 

"  Captain  Garnett,"  said  Jack,  in  a  low  tone.  The 
stranger's  dark  face  colored  a  trifle  and  he  seemed 
to  start.     Then,  with  composure,  he  said, 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir." 

"  Wait,"  said  Jack,  as  the  spy  was  passing  ahead  ; 
"  I  know  you.  Captain.  I  have  seen  you  in  Colonel 
Truesdail's  office.     I'm  in  the  secret  service,  too." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  demanded  the 
captain. 

Jack  quickly  told  his  story,  and  the  captain  listened 
with  interest. 

"  Can  you  help  me  through  the  lines  ?  "  asked 
Jack,  anxiously. 

"  I   could,"   said   the   captain,  "  but  I  want   you 


Out  of  the  Frying  Pan  277 

here.  Stay  at  the  tavern  where  you  are.  Be  at 
ease,  enjoy  life,  make  friends.  Do  you  need  more 
money  ?  I  will  leave  you  some.  Keep  your  eyes 
open  and  your  mouth  shut.  I  shall  be  here  again 
in  four  days.  Tell  me  then  all  you  can  learn, — 
not  from  officers,  I  meet  them,  —  but  from  the  peo- 
ple and  from  your  own  observation.  I  want  every- 
thing that  can  be  learned,  —  movements  of  troops, 
planting  of  batteries,  location  of  outposts,  gossip  of 
the  people  concerning  the  armies,  —  everything.  I 
come  and  go,  and  stay  but  a  few  hours.  You  stay 
and  be  eyes  for  me ;  but  no  tongue,  you  understand. 
We  must  not  be  seen  together.  Here  is  money. 
Meet  me  here  in  four  days.  I  will  report  you  to 
Colonel  Truesdail.     Good-by." 

Jack  returned  to  the  tavern,  disappointed  but 
content.  As  soon  as  he  felt  sure  of  his  duty,  his 
occupation  began  to  develop  cheerful  features. 
Coburn  was  waiting  for  him,  and  had  secured  for 
him  an  invitation  to  a  party  which  he  was  to  attend 
that  night.  And  that  was  where  Jack  met  Bessie 
Granger.  Brisk  of  movement,  ready  of  speech,  a 
soldier's  daughter,  and  in  politics  a  veritable  little 
spitfire,  but  the  merriest  girl,  with  a  quick  temper 
and  a  warm  heart,  she  was  a  revelation  to  Jack,  who 
had  never  seen  a  woman  like  her.  Her  mother  was 
dead,  her  father  was  fighting  in  Virginia,  and  she 
lived  with  her  married  sister.  It  was  evident  that 
she  had  from  the  first  at  least  a  friendly  interest  in 
Jack.  A  vigorous  little  rebel,  she  showered  good- 
natured  abuse  upon  all  her  men  friends  who  were 
not  in  the  Confederate  army,  and,  with  a  not  un- 
natural inconsistency,  passed  by  a  half  dozen  uni- 


278  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

formed  admirers  to  bestow  her  favors  upon  Mr. 
Jefferson  Saunders,  better  known  to  the  reader  as 
Jackson  Casey. 

Fortune,  given  to  carrying  coals  to  Newcastle, 
rarely  gives  to  a  man  so  many  simultaneous  favors, 
added  to  the  pleasant  consciousness  of  doing  his 
duty.  Jack  had  no  trouble  in  picking  up  informa- 
tion. The  tavern  was  a  centre  for  its  dissemination. 
Coburn  was  a  mine  of  it.  The  gatherings  which 
Jack  attended  almost  nightly,  composed  of  young 
people  of  the  town  and  younger  officers  and  soldiers, 
fairly  buzzed  with  gossip  and  news.  It  was  a 
merry  group,  and  Jack  proved  popular  among  the 
young  men,  and  distanced  all  competition  in  his 
almost  involuntary  strife  for  the  favor  of  Bessie 
Granger.  People  who  noticed  how  well  Jack  was 
prospering  there  ceased  to  ask  what  was  keeping 
him  in  Murfreesboro.  Jack  saw  this,  and  it  added 
a  reason  for  his  "  shining  up  to  her  "  ;  for  that  was 
the  way  he  described  to  himself  his  attentions. 
Coburn,  who  had  introduced  him,  and  who  was 
attentive  to  Bessie's  best  friend,  urged  Jack  on. 
In  all  this  Jack  did  not  plunge  recklessly  into 
flirtation.  It  was  a  new  world  to  him,  and  for  a 
time  he  followed  the  lines  of  least  resistance.  In- 
deed, when  it  was  seen  that  Bessie  was  disposed  to 
be  kind  to  him,  it  was  counted  matter  of  course 
that  Jack  would  gladly  follow  his  advantage. 
That  Bessie  admired  him  was  not  so  strange,  after 
all.  If  his  speech  was  uncouth,  it  was  less  so  to 
Southern  than  to  Northern  ears.  But  as  an  offset 
to  this  there  were  his  native  grace,  his  handsome 
face,  his   liberal   supply  of  money,  his  generosity, 


Out  of  the   Frying  Pan  279 

his  ready  wit  and  warm  heart.  Bessie  felt  that  she 
had  discovered  a  rough  diamond,  and  no  man  could 
wish  for  a  more  pleasant  discoverer. 

The  days  passed  quickly.  Captain  Garnett  came 
and  went,  and  came  again,  and  again  was  gone. 
He  told  Jack  little,  but  from  his  questions  Jack 
saw  that  his  information  was  of  importance,  and 
that  a  crisis  was  approaching.  Three  times,  just 
before  the  battle  of  Stone  River,  Captain  Gar- 
nett made  his  way  back  and  forth  between  the 
armies.  Christmas  came  and  went.  Murfreesboro 
made  merry  on  the  edge  of  the  volcano  of  ap- 
proaching battle.  In  some  of  the  most  aristocratic 
houses  the  American  flag  was  nailed  to  the  floor, 
and  the  party  danced  upon  it.  General  John 
Morgan  was  married  to  a  Murfreesboro  lady  just 
before  Christmas,  and  his  wedding  was  one  of  the 
great  events  of  the  season.  Jack  had  no  share  in 
these  functions  ;  but  his  own  group  of  friends  did 
not  lack  for  Christmas  festivity,  and  he  danced  the 
Virginia  reel  with  Bessie  Granger. 

So  pleasant  and  so  natural  was  all  this  that  now 
and  then  Jack  had  to  pull  his  real  self  together, 
and  remind  himself  that  the  man  underneath  the 
new  store  clothes  of  Mr.  Jefl^erson  Saunders  was 
the  plain  mountain  soldier.  Jack  Casey.  It  came 
to  take  an  effort  to  recall  himself  to  himself. 
Doubtless  he  played  his  part  the  better  for  thus 
losing  himself  in  it ;  and  so  far  forth  he  was  glad,  for 
he  had  lost  all  fear  of  betraying  himself  But  just 
when  he  was  playing  his  role  the  best,  and  rejoicing 
in  it,  there  would  come  a  twinge  of  conscience. 
Jefferson    Saunders   was    fast  falling    in    love    with 


28o  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

Bessie  Granger.  But  Jackson  Casey  was  be- 
trothed, not  in  word,  to  be  sure,  —  but  that  was 
little  comfort,  —  to  Jennie  Whitley.  Bessie  was  a 
bird  of  bright  plumage,  — "  pretty  as  a  red  bird," 
was  the  quotation  which  he  borrowed  to  describe 
her,  —  but  Jennie  was  the  wood  dove  with  the 
true  heart.  So  Jack  Casey  vowed  that  he  would 
not  so  far  forget  himself  as  to  be  untrue  to  Jennie 
Whitley.  But  Jefferson  Saunders  remained,  and 
could  hardly  do  else  than  remain,  on  good  terms 
with  Bessie  Granger. 

The  Sunday  after  Christmas  Jack  saw  Captain 
Garnett   again. 

"  You  need  not  stay  much  longer,"  he  said  to 
Jack.  "  There  will  be  a  battle  before  the  year 
ends." 

"  May  I  leave  before  the  battle  ?  "  asked  Jack. 

"  Yes ;  I  shall  return  once  more,  but  not  within 
the  town.  Meet  me  Tuesday  night  in  the  edge  of 
the  woods  to  the  left  of  the  Manson  pike,  this  side  the 
river.  Have  all  the  information  you  can  get  and 
go  with  me." 

"You  go  to  Nashville,  now?  "  asked  Jack. 

A  moment  the  dark  features  of  the  spy  relaxed 
into  a  smile  of  triumph.  "  I  dined  to-day  with 
General  Bragg.  I  am  to  dine  with  General  Rose- 
crans  to-morrow,"  he  said. 


XXV 

On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That 

IT  was  a  merry  Christmas  in  camp,  in  and 
about  Nashville.  Eph  Whitley  and  his 
companions  among  the  Kentucky  troops 
spent  a  happy  holiday.  To  be  sure  there 
were  sad  memories  and  homesick  longings.  But 
provisions  had  become  plenty  since  the  completion 
of  the  railroad,  and  there  was  shelter  and  good 
cheer.  But  the  thing  that  most  of  all  made  the 
men  happy  was  the  prospect  of  a  move.  The  army 
had  been  reorganized,  and  their  division  was  com- 
manded by  the  white-haired  General  Van  Cleve, 
who  as  a  colonel  had  fought  at  Mill  Spring.  They 
were  ordered  to  be  in  readiness  to  start  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice,  and  throughout  the  day  they  inspected 
their  arms,  and  made  ready  to  break  camp. 

The  month  had  been  a  hard  one.  There  had 
been  frequent  minor  engagements  at  the  outposts 
with  varying  results.  On  the  nth  of  December 
Franklin  had  been  captured  in  a  Union  raid,  and 
some  loss  inflicted  on  the  enemy.  But  the  battle 
of  Huntsville  had  resulted  disastrously,  and  the 
troops  had  behaved  so  badly  as  to  afford  no  little 
ground  for  censure.  The  whole  army  felt  the  stigma 
of  the  implied  charge  of  cowardice,  and  was  ready 
to  prove  its  mettle.  But  Christmas  day  passed,  and 
the  order  to  march  did  not  come.     On  Friday  morn- 


282  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

ing,  the  26th,  there  was  a  general  movement.  The 
8th  Kentucky  was  well  to  the  front,  but  the  ist 
Tennessee  remained  in  Nashville,  much  to  its 
own  disgust.  Unlike  the  preceding,  this  day  was 
most  disagreeable.  A  soldier  soon  assumes  the 
privilege  of  grumbling,  even  at  what  pleases  him, 
and  there  was  no  lack  of  it  this  day,  though  the 
men  were  glad  enough  to  march,  even  through  the  wet. 

"  Eph,"  asked  Jim  Galloway,  "  why  d'ye  reckon 
they  didn't  start  us  out  yistiddy,  lack  they  said  they 
would  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  was  a-waitin'  fur  fallin'  weather," 
said  Eph  with  grim  humor. 

The  army  marched  that  day  and  the  next,  engag- 
ing the  enemy's  pickets  and  skirmishers  at  times, 
but  continuing  their  way  toward  Murfreesboro.  On 
Saturday  night  they  camped  on  the  north  bank  of 
Stewart's  Creek,  and  the  Confederate  pickets  were 
just  on  the  other  side.  The  Union  forces  became 
convinced  that  they  were  fronting  no  large  body  of 
troops,  but  only  skirmishers  sent  to  dispute  their 
passage. 

The  army  made  no  advance  that  day,  but  all  the 
morning  and  early  afternoon  the  8th  Kentucky 
watched  the  men  across  the  creek,  and  fired  when- 
ever they  saw  a  head  appear  behind  a  tree,  though 
with  little  if  any  effect ;  and  the  rebel  sharpshoot- 
ing  was  also  ineffectual. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  Eph  saw  a  Confederate  and 
called  to  him, 

"  Hello  thar,  Johnny  !  " 

"  Hello,  Yank.     Gwineter  shoot  ?  " 

"  No.     Not  now.      Let's  quit  this  fur  a  spell." 


On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That      283 

"  All  right.  Tou  mought  as  well.  You  hain't 
a-doin'  us  no  more  harm  than  a  tom-tit  peckin'  at 
a  spruce  log." 

"  Wall,  you  hain't  a-doin'  us  no  harm.  You  tell 
your  fellers  to  quit  their  shootin',  an'  we  will." 

"  All  right.     Hit's  a  go." 

"  Boys,"  said  Eph,  "  this  hain't  no  way  to  spend 
the  Sabbath.  I  reckon  we're  stopped  to-day  because 
ole  Rosecrans  don't  like  to  march  on  Sunday.  Less 
quit  this  firin'  an'  have  a  truce." 

The  word  quickly  passed  along  the  line  on  both 
sides  of  the  creek,  and  the  men  began  to  come  out 
of  the  bushes  and  gather  on  the  banks  of  the  stream. 

"  Hello,  Yanks  !  "  said  a  rebel.  "  Who  proposed 
this  here  truce  ?  " 

"We  did,"  said  Eph. 

"  Hit's  honest  Injun,  is  it  ?  " 

"  You're  right,  it  is." 

"  All  right.     Hit's  a  go,  then,  till  sundown." 

"  Whar  be  you  Johnnies  from  ?  " 

"  From  Alabam.     Whar  be  you  from  ?  " 

"  Kaintuck." 

"  Got  any  whiskey  ?  " 

"  That's  what  we  live  on." 

"  How' 11  ye  swap  some  for  coffee  ?  " 

"  We  never  drink  it  while  the  worm  goes." 

"  What  be  you  fellers  a-comin'  down  here  for, 
anyhow  ? " 

"You'll  find  out  when  we  meet  you  at  Murfrees- 
boro.      Be  you  goin'  to  stand  thar,  or  run  ?  " 

"  That's  tellin'  tales  outer  school.  But  from  here 
to  Murfreesboro  you'll  travel  the  bloodiest  ten  mile 
ever  you  walked." 


284  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  I  reckon  so.      But  hit  won't  all  be  our  blood." 

The  conversation  was  getting  rather  too  political, 
and  both  sides  felt  that  it  was  a  pity  to  waste  the 
little  time  they  had  together  in  any  unkind  words. 

Just  then  a  Confederate  officer  rode  down  to  the 
stream. 

"  What's  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  We've  agreed  to  a  truce  till  sundown,"  said  his 
men. 

"  All  right,  boys,"  said  he.     "  Keep  it  faithfully." 

Then  turning  toward  the  stream,  he  rode  in  a  few 
paces,  and  let  his  horse  drink. 

"  Hello,  boys,"  he  said  to  the  Union  men. 

They  saluted  him  as  they  would  their  own  officer. 

"  I'm  Captain  Miller,  of  Stewart's  Cavalry,  and 
these  are  my  men.  Don't  fire  on  them,  and  they 
will  keep  their  truce  with  you.  Have  you  any 
papers  to  swap  ?  " 

They  inquired  among  themselves,  but  found  no 
newspaper. 

"  We  let'  Nashville  in  the  rain,"  Eph  said,  "  an' 
what  papers  we  had  got  wet.      I'm  sorry." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he.  "  Here's  a  Chattanooga 
paper.  I'll  give  you  mine,  anyway,"  and  riding  a 
few  steps  further  into  the  stream,  he  threw  it  over, 
and  rode  back. 

"  Thank  ye,  Captain,"  said  Eph.  "  Ef  we  meet 
you  or  your  men  in  battle,  we'll  spare  ye." 

"  Thank  you,  boys.  This  is  a  better  way  to 
spend  Sunday  than  in  useless  waste  of  powder." 

"  Yes.  A  heap  better  than  shootin'  bullets  inter 
the  timber.  This  is  most  as  good  as  goin'  to 
meetin'." 


On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That      285 

"  Boys,  have  you  a  chaplain  with  you  ?  " 

"  Not  with  this  comp'ny.  They's  one  with  the 
reg'maintal  headquarters  but  we  hain't  seed  him 
to-day." 

"  We  have  no  chaplain,"  said  the  captain.  "  Our 
chaplain  took  small-pox  in  the  hospital  and  died." 

"  I  reckon  we  could  find  a  preacher,"  said  Eph. 

"  Thar's  a  Illinois  reg'maint  up  on  the  hill  that's 
got  a  chaplain.  He's  a  right  good  feller,  too.  A 
reg'lar  shoutin'  Methodist.  He'd  come,  I  know. 
Sim,  you  go  'n'  ast  him." 

"  I  will  ride  back  in  half  an  hour,"  said  Captain 
Miller,  and  so  rode  away. 

Many  an  Illinois  regiment  knew  Chaplain  Barnes, 
and  many  a  soldier  loved  him.  He  was  short  in 
stature,  and  rather  stout  but  not  corpulent,  and  was 
lithe  in  his  movements.  He  was  an  able  preacher, 
a  forceful  stump  speaker  in  temperance  and  anti- 
slavery  campaigns,  and  carried  the  interests  of  the 
soldiers  upon  his  heart.  The  soldiers  loved  him, 
and  called  him,  somewhat  roughly,  but  with  a  ro- 
bust appreciation  of  his  whole-hearted,  enthusiastic 
preaching,  the  "  Bully  for  Christ "  chaplain.  A 
story,  which  the  good  chaplain  declared  to  be  more 
or  less  apocryphal,  was  often  told  as  indicating  the 
origin  of  the  name.  The  regiment  had  received 
official  mention  for  good  conduct  at  Perryville, 
where  it  was  put  into  the  front,  though  only  a  week 
from  home,  and  the  men  were  enthusiastically  cheer- 
ing the  officers  who  had  received  particular  honor. 

"  Bully  for  Colonel  Gooding  !  "  they  cried,  and 
then,  "  Bully  for  General  McCook  ! " 

"  Bully   for   Abe    Lincoln "  was  the  next  cheer. 


286  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

and  then,  noticing  the  chaplain  vociferously  joining 
in  it,  they  shouted, 

"  Bully  for  Parson  Barnes  !  " 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  I  thank  you  for  cheering  for 
me,  and  I  say  with  you.  Bully  for  all  the  good  men 
you've  been  cheering.  But  I  want  you  to  say,  and 
say  it  with  all  your  hearts,  Bully  for  Christ." 

The  chaplain  always  declared  that  that  was  not 
just  what  he  said,  but  that  was  what  the  soldiers  told. 

In  a  very  little  time  the  chaplain  appeared.  Men 
were  not  always  ready  to  listen  to  sermons,  and  he 
was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  preach.  The  day 
was  mild  and  clear,  and  the  Sabbath  hush  was  on  all 
the  earth.  The  little  minister  came  walking  with  a 
quick  step  down  among  the  men  at  the  bank  of  the 
creek,  and  greeted  both  sides  with  cordial  words. 

"  Boys,  can  you  sing  ?"   he  asked. 

Eph  Whitley's  father  had  led  the  singing  at 
Roundstone  ever  since  any  one  could  remember ; 
and  all  Roundstone  knew  Eph  as  the  best  singer 
among  the  young  people  of  the  Holler.  He  started 
a  weird,  camp-meeting  melody  which  both  sides 
knew,  and  sang  together, 

•'  I  am  bound  for  the  promised  land, 
I  am  bound  for  the  promised  land. 
Oh,  who  will  come  and  go  with  me, 
I  am  bound  for  the  promised  land." 

To  this  refrain  were  sung  successively  the  stanzas 
of  "  Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross." 

Chaplain  Barnes  mounted  a  low  rock  on  the 
shore  of  the  stream  and  opened  his  Bible.  Captain 
Miller  returned  and  sat  on  his  horse,  a  little  back 


On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That      287 

among  the  trees,  on  the  other  side.  Clear  and 
strong  the  chaplain  said  : 

"  My  friends  and  brothers  on  both  sides  of  the 
stream.  We  have  been  singing  together,  and  sing- 
ing truly,  that  we  are  bound  for  the  promised  land. 
In  spite  of  all  the  wickedness  and  cruelty  of  this 
wicked  and  cruel  war,  I  am  glad  to  believe  that,  that 
is  true  of  many  of  us  on  both  sides. 

"  My  text  is  in  the  twenty-second  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Revelation,  and  the  second,  third,  and  fourth 
verses. 

" '  On  either  side  of  the  river  was  there  the  tree  of  life, 
which  bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits,  and  yielded  her  fruit 
every  month  :  and  the  leaves  of  the  tree  were  for  the  heal- 
ing of  the  nations.  And  there  shall  be  no  more  curse  :  but 
the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  shall  be  in  it:  and  his 
servants  shall  serve  him.      And  they  shall  see  his  face.' 

"  My  brothers,  I  do  not  know  the  full  meaning 
of  this  text,  but  I  feel  that  I  know  a  little  more  of 
it  for  our  meeting  here,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  tree 
of  life  does  grow  on  both  sides  of  this  river. 

"  We  stand  separated  from  each  other  and  from 
our  own  future  by  just  such  narrow  streams.  How 
narrow  a  river  separates  us  from  to-morrow,  and  yet 
with  the  rising  of  the  sun  we  shall  be  taking  each 
other's  lives  !  How  narrow  a  stream  separates  us 
from  each  other  in  all  our  convictions,  and  how 
much  of  prejudice  and  misunderstanding  has  existed 
on  both  sides  to  bring  about  this  awful  war,  and 
caused  us  to  forget  that  the  tree  of  life  can  bear 
more  than  one  manner  of  fruit ! 

"  How  narrow  a  stream  separates  us  from  the  new 


288  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

year !  This  is  the  last  Sunday  in  the  old  year  and 
almost  the  last  day.  The  old  year  with  all  its  ac- 
complishments and  all  its  mistakes  is  before  God, 
and  we  must  give  an  account  for  it,  and  begin  the 
new  one.  How  narrow  a  stream  separates  us  from 
the  other  world.  We  may  not  even  live  to  see  the 
end  of  this  year  and  the  beginning  of  the  next.  Oh, 
my  brothers,  if  the  tree  of  life  is  to  bloom  for  you 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river  of  death,  it  must  be 
planted  here  !     We  sing  that, 

"  *  On  the  other  side  of  Jordan, 
In  the  sweet  fields  of  Eden, 
Where  the  tree  of  Hfe  is  blooming. 
There  is  rest  for  you.' 

"  But  I  read  that  on  this  side  of  the  river,  as  well 
as  on  that,  is  there  the  tree  of  life.  My  friends,  the 
leaves  of  that  tree  must  heal  this  nation.  And 
while  we  do  our  awful  duty  now,  and  strike  our 
hardest  blows,  let  us  remember  that  we  strike  our 
brothers,  and  pray  God  for  the  healing  of  this  nation 
with  the  leaves  of  the  tree  which  grows  in  the 
garden  of  God. 

"  God  bless  you  all,  my  brothers.  The  sam'e 
kind  of  heart  beats  under  gray  that  beats  under 
blue,  and  we  are  one  in  spirit  to-day.  Together  we 
join  in  this  worship.  Together  we  join  in  song. 
Together  we  join  in  thoughts  of  home  and  love  and 
duty,  and  the  same  kind  of  love  and  hope  is  growing 
to-day  in  hearts  on  both  sides  of  this  little  creek. 
So  may  the  same  graces  abound  in  our  lives  on  this 
side  of  the  river  of  death  that  we  hope  to  have  in 
the  heavenly  paradise." 


On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That.        Page   zi 


On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That      289 

Then  the  Httle  parson  lifted  up  his  voice  in 
prayer,  and  the  whole  company  knelt  with  him 
upon  the  banks  of  the  stream,  and  there  were  tears 
dropping  from  many  eyes. 

"  Let  us  sing  in  closing,"  said  he, 

"  *  On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand. 
And  cast  a  wistful  eye. 
To  Canaan's  fair  and  happy  land. 
Where  my  possessions  lie.'  " 

Eph  led  the  singing  to  one  of  the  minor  airs 
which  both  sides,  being  Southerners,  knew  so  well. 
The  song  was  hearty,  but  the  chaplain  did  not  know 
the  tune. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  quite  know  those 
tunes.  And  I  want  to  sing  with  you.  Let's  sing 
one  more  hymn.  Let  us  sing,  '  There  is  a  land  of 
pure  delight,'  to  the  tune  of  '  Varina.'  I  guess  every- 
body knows  that." 

They  all  knew  it,  and  sang  with  him, 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood. 

Stand  dressed  in  living  green  : 
So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood. 

While  Jordan  rolled  between. 
Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood 

And  view  the  landscape  o'er. 
Not  Jordan's  stream,  nor  death's  cold  flood. 

Should  fright  us  from  the  shore." 

Then  he  pronounced  the  benediction,  and  went 
away.  Captain  Miller  also  rode  back  to  his  tent. 
And  the  men,  as  the  dusk  came  on,  built  their  fires 
down  by  the  stream,  and  made  their  coffee,  and 
drank    each    other's    health.       On    the    coals    they 


290  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

broiled  the  rabbits  which  both  sides  had  found  in 
considerable  numbers,  and  whose  chase  had  served 
as  diversion  all  the  morning.  There  was  swapping 
of  broiled  rabbit  for  hard  tack,  and  it  may  even  have 
been  that  in  the  excess  of  good  fellowship  some  flasks 
from  the  Kentuckians  went  across  the  stream  in  ex- 
change for  canteens  of  hot  coffee.  The  men  visited 
until  dark,  and  then  with  good  words  on  either  side 
went  to  their  tents.  The  night  fell  without  the  fir- 
ing of  a  gun  along  Stewart's  Creek,  and  the  peace  of 
God's  Sabbath  reigned  on  this  side  of  the  river  and 
on  that. 

The  next  day  the  Union  army  took  up  its  march 
again  toward  Murfreesboro.  There  was  skirmish- 
ing, but  at  long  range,  and  the  men  of  Eph's  regi- 
ment looked  to  see  whether  they  were  firing  at  men 
on  foot  or  horseback,  and  if  the  men  were  mounted, 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  their  aim  was  not  very  true. 

"  Hello,  Kentuck,"  said  an  Illinoisan  to  Eph, 
"  Stole  our  parson  and  had  meetin'  yesterday,  did 
you  r 

"  Yes  ;  an'  he's  a  main  good  one,  ain't  he  ?  " 

"  You're  mighty  right.  He's  the  man  that  in- 
vented the  word  '  skedaddle ' ;  but  he's  the  bravest 
man  in  the  army." 

"  Did  you  have  preachin'  yistiddy  ?  " 

"  No  ;  we  had  a  funeral." 

"  That's  nothin'  outer  common.  Was  it  an 
officer  ?  " 

"  No  ;  General  Palmer  had  commanded  us  not  to 
commit  depredations.  We  obeyed  the  order  over 
the  left.  Some  of  the  fellers  in  our  company  found 
a  sheep,  and  were  skinning  him  when  Palmer  rode 


On  This  Side  of  the  River  and  on  That      291 

along.  They  just  whipped  a  blanket  over  him  and 
got  out  a  deck  of  cards  and  were  playing  seven  up 
by  the  time  he  got  there.  He  looked  at  the  blanket 
and  didn't  say  anything,  but  rode  on.  The  fellers 
in  our  mess  had  caught  a  hog.  We  had  lots  of  time 
yesterday,  and  we  were  skinning  him,  and  he  caught 
us  in  the  act. 

"  '  Ah,'  said  he,  '  a  body  !  A  corpse  !  Some 
poor  fellow  gone  to  his  long  home  !  He  must  be 
buried  with  military  honors.  Call  the  officer  of  the 
guard.  Officer,'  says  he,  '  these  men  have  lost  a 
comrade.  A  dear  friend  has  passed  away.  Provide 
them  with  spades,  and  see  that  they  dig  a  grave, 
wide  and  deep.  Be  sure  they  dig  it  deep.  And  let 
them  bury  their  friend  with  military  honors.' 

"  He  sat  there  on  his  horse,  sober  as  a  judge.  But 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  Well,  we  had  to  dig  the  grave,  and  we  wrapped 
the  hog  in  an  old  overcoat  and  buried  him  under 
guard.  And  General  Palmer  said,  '  Peace  to  his 
ashes  ! '  and  rode  off.  But  when  we  got  him  buried 
and  the  guard  returned,  we  thought  of  the  resurrec- 
tion, and  it  wasn't  long  till  Gabriel's  trumpet  blew." 

"  You  dug  him  up,  did  ye  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  ain't  saying  what  we  did.  But  we  didn't 
eat  salt  horse  for  supper,  I  can  tell  you  that.  And 
we  had  all  the  better  appetite  for  pork  chops  and 
tenderloin  for  our  exercise  digging  the  grave." 


XXVI 

The  Battle  of  Stone  River 

THERE  is  always  a  reaction  from  unre- 
strained mirth.  After  Christmas  Mur- 
freesboro  grew  thoughtful.  Two  days 
before  the  end  of  the  year  a  shudder  of 
apprehension  seized  the  town.  The  Yankees  were 
coming.  They  had  left  Nashville  two  days  ago. 
They  would  be  here  in  two  days  more,  and  then 
there  would  be  a  bloody  battle.  All  hopes  of  go- 
ing into  winter  quarters  were  at  an  end.  Discipline 
in  the  army  became  rigid.  People  began  seeking 
permission  to  leave  town,  and  for  the  most  part 
readily  obtained  it.  Coburn  was  among  the  first  to 
leave.  Jack  could  easily  have  gone  now,  but  his 
orders  held  him  for  another  day  and  night.  He 
was  eager  to  be  gone,  to  be  in  his  own  place  in  the 
ranks,  away  from  this  false  position,  away  from  the 
hollow  part  which  he  was  playing,  and  away  from 
Bessie  Granger,  before  he  should  be  tempted  to  say 
what  he  must  not  say.  Bessie  asked  him  about  the 
approaching  battle  and  its  probable  effect  upon  his 
plans.  He  could  not  give  her  such  answers  as  she 
desired,  nor  could  he  well  reply  when  she  asked, 
what  more  than  once  she  had  asked  before,  why  so 
brave  a  man  as  he  was  not  a  soldier.  Jack  deter- 
mined to  be  kind  to  her,  and  no  more  ;  to  explain 
to  her  his  situation  at  the  earliest  moment  when  his 

292 


The  Battle  of  Stone  River  293 

duty  would  allow  him  to  speak  ;  and  to  avoid,  if 
possible,  all  future  relations  with  the  secret  service. 

On  Tuesday  night  he  made  his  way  to  the  ap- 
pointed place,  in  hope  of  meeting  Captain  Garnett. 
But  the  hope  all  but  forsook  him  when  he  came  to 
the  place.  The  pike  was  full  of  soldiers  crossing 
the  river  to  take  position  beyond.  All  day  in  the 
rain  he  had  seen  the  troops  moving  to  the  left. 
He  now  divined  the  meaning  of  it.  He  had  news 
now,  and  of  importance.  He  must  if  possible  see 
Captain  Garnett.  But  the  movement  which  made 
his  news  of  importance  prevented  the  captain's 
coming.  The  hours  went  by  till  the  sky  grew  gray, 
and  all  night  long  he  watched  in  vain.  After  hours 
of  ineffectual  striving  to  make  his  way  through  the 
lines.  Captain  Garnett  had  given  up  the  attempt, 
confident,  however,  that  his  information  was  correct. 
It  was  correct,  and  on  it  had  been  formed  the  plan 
of  Rosecrans  to  move  out  from  the  left  and  throw 
Van  Cleve's  division  across  the  river  upon  the  Con- 
federate right,  which  was  believed  to  be  the  most 
favorable  point  of  attack.  It  was  all  the  more  so 
now  that  the  Confederate  left  was  so  extended,  but 
the  news  which  Jack  obtained,  which  would  have 
been  worth  ten  thousand  men  to  Rosecrans,  was 
that  Bragg  had  formed  precisely  the  same  plan,  and 
had  thrown  his  left  across  the  river,  three  miles 
further  down,  to  strike  the  Union  right,  and  that 
everything  depended  upon  being  able  to  strike  first. 

When  Jack  returned  to  the  tavern  in  the  dawn 
of  the  last  day  of  1862,  the  battle  had  already  begun, 
and  from  the  firing  he  knew  that  Bragg  had  struck 
first.      He  changed    his   dripping  clothes,   put   dry 


294  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

cartridges  in  his  revolver,  swallowed  a  hasty  break- 
fast and  waited. 

It  had  rained  all  night,  and  Eph  Whitley  and  his 
8th  Kentucky  comrades  had  lain  without  fire  in  the 
dripping  woods  between  the  pike  and  the  river. 
With  the  first  light  of  day  they  were  astir,  and  after 
a  cold  bite  of  hard  tack  moved  toward  the  left  to 
the  ford.  The  water  was  icy  cold,  but  they  plunged 
into  it,  and  came  up  on  the  other  side  ready  for 
another  march  and  an  attack  on  the  forces  a  half 
mile  beyond.  They  were  hardly  across  the  river 
when  the  sound  was  heard  of  a  heavy  battle  on  the 
right,  and  the  order  came  to  recall  the  division  and 
support  the  exposed  wing.  Two  brigades  were  left 
in  charge  of  Colonel  Price,  and  Eph's  regiment 
was  with  them.  The  rest  of  the  division  rushed 
through  the  woods,  their  garments  dripping  from 
the  second  fording,  and  met  the  whole  right  in  re- 
treat, with  the  rebels  in  full  pursuit.  Bragg's  move- 
ment had  been  magnificently  planned  and  brilliantly 
executed.  With  a  shorter  distance  to  move,  the 
Confederates  had  the  advantage  of  the  first  attack, 
and  they  carried  everything  before  them  like  a 
storm. 

In  every  battle  there  is  a  sorry  picture  at  the 
rear.  Cowards  and  stragglers  are  in  every  fight, 
and  men  who  prove  brave  enough  afterward  some- 
times run  like  sheep  at  the  first  fire.  But  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland  never  before  or  afterward  saw 
what  it  saw  that  day,  whole  regiments  in  swift  re- 
treat, and  the  overborne  troops  pushing  their  way 
by  thousands  through  the  fog  to  the  rear.  Up  and 
down  rode  Van  Cleve,  the  blood  dropping  from  a 


The  Battle  of  Stone  River  2^^ 

wound  in  his  foot,  and  his  white  hair  streaming  in 
the  wind.  A  new  plan  was  arranged.  A  new  line 
of  battle  was  formed  —  a  line  which  receded,  but 
was  not  again  broken.  Rosecrans  now  became 
anxious  for  his  left  wing,  and  rode  back  to  the  ford 
whence  he  had  called  Van  Cleve. 

"  Who  commands  this  brigade  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  do,"  said  Colonel  Price. 

"  Can  you  hold  this  ford  ?  " 

"  I'll  try,  sir,"  said  Price,  looking  about  at  his 
depleted  body  of  men,  and  up  to  where  Breckin- 
ridge held  his  four  brigades  of  splendidly  drilled 
Confederates. 

"  Can  you  hold  this  ford  ? "  again  demanded 
Rosecrans. 

"  ril  die  right  here,  sir,"  said  Price. 

"  Can  you  hold  this  ford  ?  "  thundered  Rosecrans. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  I  will ! "  replied  Price. 

Eph  looked  to  the  right  and  the  left  into  the 
faces  of  his  companions,  and  read  in  every  one  of 
them  the  answer  of  their  commander.  "  Yes,"  said 
he,  "  we  will !  " 

Twice  that  day  Bragg  ordered  Breckinridge  to 
move  over  and  attack  the  centre.  That  he  did  not 
crush  the  Union  army  into  fragments  that  day  was 
due  to  the  failure  of  Breckinridge  to  obey.  For 
Colonel  Price  kept  his  word  and  his  position  at 
the  ford. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  Union  troops  took 
their  final  position,  and  from  the  ground  then  occu- 
pied they  never  receded.  They  formed  in  a  semi- 
circle bending  outward,  with  the  ends  resting  on 
Stone  River.     Against  this  new  line  the  Confeder- 


296  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

ates  hurled  themselves  four  times.  The  cannon  roar 
was  deafening.  The  roll  of  the  musketry  was  in- 
cessant. Men  fought  like  demons,  no  longer  firing  as 
earlier  they  had  sometimes  done  into  their  own  ranks, 
but  volley  upon  volley  straight  into  the  faces  of  their 
enemies.  Each  army  had  lost  immensely  ;  but  each 
was  stronger  in  morale  and  in  possibilities  of  victory 
than  when  the  fight  began.  To  kill  men  or  to  be 
killed  ceased  to  be  a  thing  considered.  On  the  one 
side  there  was  determination  to  break  the  line,  on 
the  other  to  hold  it,  and  neither  side  thought  of 
life  or  death  or  anything  save  that.  The  fighting 
ceased  as  the  day  died,  and  the  night  fell  bitter  cold, 
and  the  Union  line  stood  firm. 

New  Year's  day  broke  clear,  but  cold.  There 
were  dead  by  thousands,  and  wounded  more  than 
could  be  cared  for.  Bragg  telegraphed  to  Jefferson 
Davis  that  God  had  given  a  happy  new  year  to  the 
Confederate  cause,  but  neither  he  nor  Rosecrans  cared 
to  begin  the  battle  that  day. 

On  Friday  Rosecrans  pushed  his  left  further 
across  the  river,  and  that  day  the  battle  was  fought 
at  the  other  end  of  the  line.  It  was  Bragg's  des- 
perate attempt  to  force  the  issue.  He  had  expected 
the  Union  army  to  retreat  the  night  before.  Breck- 
inridge, against  his  earnest  protest,  was  thrown  with 
all  the  impetuous  force  of  his  four  fine  brigades 
against  the  Union  left.  The  charge  of  Breckinridge 
at  first  was  irresistible.  The  Union  troops  fell  back. 
It  was  the  most  magnificent  movement  of  the  battle, 
but  for  the  Confederates  the  most  disastrous.  On 
the  hill  above  the  ford  the  Union  General  Menden- 
hall  massed  fifty-eight  cannon,  and  rained  down  upon 


The  Battle  of  Stone  River  297 

the  advancing  Confederates,  the  flower  of  the  South, 
a  hundred  shots  a  minute.  Since  the  world  began, 
flesh  and  blood  had  never  stood  under  such  a  storm 
of  iron  hail  that  smote  whole  ranks  to  the  earth. 
The  Confederates  stopped  as  they  pressed  through 
the  cotton  field,  and  from  the  bolls  at  their  feet  took 
cotton  and  stuffed  their  ears  against  the  awful  thunder 
of  the  artillery,  and  pressed  on.  The  Union  in- 
fantry now  rallied,  and  poured  in  their  murderous 
fire  of  Minie  balls.  Southern  dash  and  ardor  at  its 
best  met  equally  at  its  best  Northern  endurance  and 
determination.  The  Confederates  advanced  and 
were  repulsed,  advanced  again,  and  again  were  driven 
back.  A  third  time  the  wave  of  battle  advanced 
and  receded,  breaking  on  the  adamantine  rock  of 
the  Union  front,  and  leaving  two  thousand  Confed- 
erates dead  and  dying  men  upon  the  field.  Night 
fell,  and  was  welcome,  for  both  sides  were  weary  of 
slaughter. 

Saturday  brought  a  storm  and  little  fighting.  The 
Union  army  was  gladdened  that  day  by  the  coming 
of  a  wagon  train  of  supplies,  guarded  by  a  hastily 
picked  up  brigade  under  General  Spears.  Among 
his  men  were  the  ist  and  2d  Tennessee,  which 
regiments  were  sent  to  reinforce  Van  Cleve's  com- 
mand. The  arrival  of  these  fresh  troops,  and  the 
great  loss  sustained  by  Breckinridge,  greatly  dis- 
heartened Bragg,  and  on  Saturday  night,  under  cover 
of  a  heavy  fire,  his  army  began  its  retreat. 

In  the  town,  the  excitement  seemed  to  subside 
when  the  battle  really  began.  There  was  anxiety 
still,  but  of  the  calmer  sort.     The  roar  of  the  battle 


'298  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

seemed  somehow  to  steady  nerves  that  had  been 
unstrung  by  the  uncertainty  of  the  past  days.  Soon 
the  wounded  began  coming  in.  The  churches  were 
filled  with  them.  All  the  public  buildings  became 
hospitals.  The  Union  University  and  the  Soule 
Female  College  were  filled  with  bleeding,  suffering 
men.  There  were  more  than  the  surgeons  could 
attend.  The  townspeople  began  offering  their  ser- 
vices. Jack  hastened  to  the  university,  and  was 
soon  at  work,  caring  for  the  more  slightly  wounded, 
whom  the  surgeons  could  not  attend.  He  rejoiced 
that  this  much,  at  least,  his  duty  as  a  soldier  did 
not  prevent.  The  need  for  nurses  grew.  The 
surgeons  were  far  too  few  in  number.  More  women 
came  to  help,  and  here  and  there  a  man  was  sent 
from  the  ranks,  who  was  known  to  have  knowledge 
of  surgery  or  skill  in  nursing.  Jack  was  busy,  when 
a  voice  at  his  elbow  asked, 

"  Let  me  help  you,  won't  you,  please  ? "  and 
looking  up   he  saw   Bessie. 

She  had  never  looked  so  pretty  to  Jack  in  her 
party  dress  as  she  did  now,  with  pale  face,  but  set 
teeth  and  pleading  eyes. 

"  Yes,  help  me  here,"  said  Jack.  "  I  thought  at 
first  you  was  an  angel." 

She  held  the  bandage  on  a  wounded  leg  while 
Jack  wrapped  it  round  and  round,  and  then  together 
they  went  from  man  to  man,  attending  to  minor 
wounds,  bringing  water  to  quench  the  terrible  gun- 
shot thirst,  and  assisting  the  surgeons  in  the  more 
difficult  cases.  The  work  continued  all  day,  and 
grew  harder  and  more  abundant  as  the  day  wore  on, 
till  the  plucky  little  Bessie  was  wearied  to  the  point 


The  Battle  of  Stone  River  299 

of  exhaustion.  Jack  almost  forced  her  to  go  home 
for  refreshment,  and  took  himself  to  the  tavern, 
whence,  after  an  hour  of  rest,  he  went  again  with 
Bessie  to  the  university,  and  they  worked  together 
far  into  the  night. 

There  is  something  about  work  in  such  relations 
that  creates  a  new  world  for  those  who  engage 
together  in  it.  A  day  of  it,  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  forever.  The  past  recedes  and  all  but  vanishes, 
and  the  awful  and  absorbing  present  fills  all  that 
ever  has  been  and  all  that  is  to  be.  When,  long 
after  midnight.  Jack  parted  with  Bessie  at  her  door, 
it  seemed  an  age  since  morning  when  they  had 
begun  their  work  together.  If  one  such  day  seems 
an  age,  four  of  them  become  an  eternity. 

With  the  first  reliable  news  from  the  battle, 
Murfreesboro  thanked  God  and  took  courage.  The 
Confederates  were  winning.  The  Union  army  had 
been  driven  back.  But  the  first  night  and  the  next 
day  met  them  with  adverse  news,  for  the  Union 
forces  were  not  dislodged.  On  Thursday  night 
there  was  another  outbreak  of  joy  over  the  false 
report  that  the  Nashville  pike  was  crowded  with 
the  wagon  trains  of  the  retreating  Yankees.  Bragg 
believed  it,  and  so  did  the  army  and  the  town.  But 
Friday  brought  the  awful  carnage  and  defeat  of 
Breckinridge,  and  the  dead  had  to  be  hurried  from 
the  overcrowded  hospitals  almost  before  their  last 
breath  was  drawn,  to  make  room  for  the  thousands 
of  wounded.  Then  the  people's  heart  sank  like 
lead.  Jack  could  hardly  resist  sharing  with  the 
people  about  him,  and  especially  with  Bessie,  the 
varying    emotions    which     the    alternating     tidings 


joo  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

brought.  The  only  thing  which  made  it  possible 
for  them  to  work  together  without  his  betraying  him- 
self was  that  they  were  too  busy  to  talk  much.  All 
day  and  almost  all  night  they  labored.  They  lost 
count  of  the  days.  The  time  seemed  unrelated  to 
other  time.  The  years  of  the  past  were  like  a  dream. 
One  night,  —  it  must  have  been  Friday  night,  — 
Jack  took  Bessie  home  as  the  day  was  breaking, 
and  himself  sought  his  bed  in  the  tavern. 

"  You're  the  pluckiest  little  girl  ever  I  seen," 
said  he,  as  they  approached  her  home. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  have  been  so  brave," 
she  replied,  "if — " 

"If  what?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  What  did  you  start  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  started  to  say  that  I  thought  it  was  largely  the 
help  of  your  presence  and  courage  that  made  me 
brave.  I  thought  I  had  better  not  say  it,  but  you 
have  made  me  do  it." 

She  spoke  half  reproachfully.  They  were  at  the 
steps  of  the  house.  Jack  looked  down  into  the  tired 
face  and  it  lighted  up. 

"  A  man  couldn't  help  being  brave  with  you," 
said  he.  He  could  hardly  resist  the  impulse  to 
take  her  in  his  arms.  "You're  plumb  tired  out,"  he 
added.  "  You  must  sleep  now  till  noon.  Then 
I'll  come  for  you." 

The  day  dawned,  and  darkened  again  with  a  storm. 
Jack  ate  his  breakfast  and  lay  down,  but  was  too 
tired  to  sleep.  The  effort  which  it  had  come  to 
require  to  recall  himself  to  himself  was  little  short 
of  violent.      He  must    define    to    himself  his  own 


The   Battle  of  Stone  River  301 

position.  Did  he  love  this  pretty,  plucky  little 
Southern  girl,  or  was  he  still  in  love  with  Jennie  ? 
His  heart  turned  to  Jennie  when  he  had  time  to 
think  of  her,  but  she  and  all  associated  with  her 
seemed  very  remote  just  now.  Yet  duty  was  near. 
Whatever  else  he  remembered  or  forgot,  he  must 
remember  what  brought  him  here,  and  what  was  his 
duty  as  a  soldier. 

He  went  out  into  the  storm  and  walked  toward 
the  river.  Here  the  Confederates  held  both  sides, 
but  far  down  the  stream  was  Van  Cleve's  division, 
strongly  reinforced  and  holding  the  ford,  and  above 
it  on  the  hill  frowned  Mendenhall's  murderous  fifty- 
eight  cannon  that  had  wrought  such  havoc  yester- 
day. To  get  through  the  lines  by  land  was  clearly 
impossible,  and  to  cross  the  river  here  was  of  no 
avail.  If  only  he  had  a  boat,  and  it  were  night,  he 
might  hope  to  escape.  He  walked  up  the  bank  of 
the  river.  Boats  were  few,  but  he  found  a  round- 
bottomed  log  canoe  below  the  brick  house,  near  the 
railroad  bridge.  It  was  locked,  and  the  paddles 
were  gone,  but  Jack  marked  its  position,  and 
the  location  of  the  troops  above.  It  was  two 
miles,  at  least,  to  the  ford,  and  the  night  would  be 
dark. 

He  turned  back  to  the  town.  The  rain  was 
falling,  and  it  was  not  yet  noon.  He  stepped  into 
the  Methodist  church  on  his  way  back,  to  see  how 
the  wounded  fared  there,  and  met  face  to  face  in  the 
door,  Sam  Marshall.  Marshall  laid  his  hand  on 
his  sword,  and  Jack  drew  his  revolver. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  said  Jack,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Let's 
settle  this  outside." 


302  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

They  passed  to  the  rear  of  the  church,  which  was 
crowded  inside  with  wounded. 

"  What  are  you  doin'  here  ?  "  demanded  Marshall. 

"  I'm  carin'  for  wounded  soldiers,"  said  Jack. 
"  What  are  you  doin'  here  ?  Why  ain't  you  at  the 
front  fightin'  ?  " 

"  I  was  there  till  they  called  me  here,"  said  Sam. 
"  But  what  I  want  to  know  is,  what  are  you  doin' 
inside  these  lines  ?  " 

"  Sam  Marshall,  if  you  insist  on  astin'  that  ques- 
tion, you  an'  me  might  just  as  well  fight  it  out  an' 
be  done  with  it.  You  know  what  I'm  here  for,  an' 
I  hain't  a-goin'  to  be  betrayed  an'  hung,  nuther.  If 
you  an'  me  can  come  to  terms,  all  right.  If  not, 
then  they  won't  but  just  one  of  us  leave  the  hind 
side  o'  this  church  house  alive." 

"By  heaven,  I'd  like  it  so!  I've  swore  to  kill 
you  !  But  I've  promised  your  mother  I  wouldn't. 
But  if  you're  here  as  a  spy,  no  promise  holds.  I 
won't  kill  you,  but  I'll  see  you  hung." 

"  No  you  won't.  They  hain't  nary  one  of  us  goin' 
ter  stir  from  this  spot  till  we  come  to  terms,  or  one 
of  us  gits  killed." 

"  I  wish  I'd  a  died  before  I  ever  touched  your 
mother's  food  !  I  swore  to  her  I'd  never  harm  ye. 
But  I  can't  let  you  go  with  information  to  the 
enemy.  I'd  ruther  break  a  hundred  promises,  and 
die,  too  !  " 

"  Sam  Marshall,  let  me  tell  you  this.  I  reckon 
I've  done  all  the  harm  I  can  this  trip.  I  hain't  got 
no  information  now  that's  good  for  anybody.  I 
couldn't  get  through  the  lines,  as  I  know  on,  if 
I  had.      Mind  you,  I'd  git  information  if  I  could, 


The   Battle  of  Stone  River  303 

an'  I'd  git  out  with  it  if  I  could.  But  all  I'm  a-doin' 
here  now  is  to  put  in  my  time  lookin'  atter  these 
wounded  Johnnies.  If  you  think  it's  your  duty, 
we'll  fight,  and  there'll  be  one  less  rebel  nuss  or 
surgeon,    one,   afore    we    git  through." 

Marshall  hesitated.     "If  you'll  promise  —  " 

"  I  won't  promise  nothin'.  I've  told  you  the 
truth.  I'm  goin'  back  to  the  university,  where 
I've  been  workin'  night  an'  day  for  four  days, 
savin'  the  lives  of  rebels.  If  I  git  a  good  chance, 
I'm  goin'  back  to  the  army." 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  then.  And  we'd  best 
keep  out  of  each  other's  way.  I  won't  betray  you 
without  fair  warnin'.     That's  all  I  can  say." 

"  I'm  agreed.  Only,  you  understand,  I  ain't 
astin'  no  favors.  If  you  think  you  ort  to  fight, 
don't  let  your  promise  hold  you  back.  Do  yer 
duty,  an'  I'll  do  mine.  But  I  reckon  we  might 
as  well  wait  till  the  battle's  over,  an'  the  hull  ques- 
tion may  settle  itself." 

"  Casey,  you  ain't  a  coward,  I'll  say  that  for  you. 
I  don't  know  as  I'm  doin'  right,  but  I'm  tryin'  to. 
Whatever  I  do,  I'll  do  without  any  grudge  on  old 
scores.  They  might  as  well  go  by  the  board.  If 
you  can  get  out  inside  twenty-four  hours,  I  wish 
you  would,  for  I  ain't  right  sure  what  I  ought  to 
do.  But  I'll  stay  here,  and  you  stay  at  the  other 
hospital,  where  you  are  at,  and  I  reckon  we'll  both 
have  enough  to  think  about  for  this  day  without 
killin'  each  other." 

Jack  went  now  for  Bessie  ;  and  as  he  went,  his 
determination  grew  to  leave  the  town  that  night. 
There    was    skirmishing,    and    now    and    then     a 


304  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

wounded  man  was  brought  in  fresh  from  the  field  ; 
but  more  were  brought  who  had  not  been  picked 
up  the  day  before.  The  storm  was  heavy,  and 
Jack  thanked  God  for  the  pitiless  rain  that  made  the 
yet  more  pitiless  fighting  impracticable  for  that  day. 

They  stood  a  moment  in  the  house  before  they 
started  into  the  storm. 

"  Bessie,"  he  asked,  "  do  you  know  the  people 
that  live  in  that  brick  house  on  the  river  above  the 
pike  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  "  I  know  them  well." 

"  I  want  to  borry  their  canoe  to-night,"  said 
Jack.     "  Do  you  reckon  I  could  get  it  ?  " 

"What  do  you  want  of  it  ?  "  she  asked,  suddenly 
turning. 

"  Nothin'.  That  is,  I've  important  business  on 
hand  to-night." 

"  I  reckon  I  could  borrow  the  boat,"  said  Bessie ; 
"  but  they'll  wonder  what  I  want  it  for  at  such  a 
time,  that's  all." 

"  You  needn't  mind,"  said  Jack.  "  I'll  tell  ye  if 
I  need  your  help.      Mebby  I  won't  git  to  go." 

As  he  thought  about  it  he  reflected  that  it  was 
not  best  to  ask  Bessie's  help  in  the  matter.  It  would 
necessitate  too  many  explanations.  He  would  break 
the  lock,  and  make  some  shift  for  a  paddle.  But  if 
possible  he  would  go.  They  worked  together  in 
the  hospital  that  afternoon,  but  Bessie  saw  that  he 
was  preoccupied.  They  were  both  weary,  and  there 
was  somewhat  less  to  do  than  on  former  days.  They 
left  early  in  the  evening,  and  Jack  parted  with  Bessie 
at  the  door.  He  lingered  a  moment,  for  he  did  not 
intend  to  return. 


The  Battle  of  Stone  River 


305 


"  Good  night,"  he  said,  "  and  get  all  the  rest  you 
can. 

"Stay  a  moment,"  she  said.  "You  are  not  in 
earnest  about  leaving  town  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  right  sure,"  said  he. 

"  But  if  you  go,  when  will  you  return  ?  " 

"  I  can't  quite  say  about  that,"  he  answered.  "  As 
soon  as  the  battle  is  over,  I  reckon.  I  can  explain 
matters  then.  I  can't  now.  I  may  not  go.  If  not, 
I'll  see  you  to-morrow.      Good  night." 

It  was  an  unsatisfactory  parting  to  them  both. 
Jack  turned  toward  the  tavern,  seeking  something  of 
which  to  make  an  oar.  After  some  searching  he  dis- 
covered a  clapboard,  which  he  shaped  into  a  clumsy 
paddle.  Then  he  went  to  his  room  and  reloaded 
his  revolver,  and  borrowed  a  hammer  to  break  the 
padlock  of  the  boat.  As  he  went  out  into  the  street 
he  found  a  new  reason  for  his  going.  The  cannon 
had  begun  firing  in  the  distance,  but  under  cover  of 
this  feint,  Bragg  was  withdrawing  his  forces  from 
the  town.  This  was  news  to  be  taken  at  once  to 
the  Federal  camp.  He  made  his  way  around  to 
avoid  the  troops  who  now  filled  the  muddy  streets 
from  side  to  side,  and  in  half  an  hour  approached 
the  river.  Under  the  rocky  bank,  he  found  a  low, 
round-bottomed,  dug-out  craft  half  full  of  water. 
He  bailed  it  out  with  his  hat,  and  stepped  ashore  to 
break  the  lock,  and  there  stood   Bessie. 

"  Here  is  the  key,"  she  said  simply,  "  and  here 
are  the  paddles." 

"  Bessie  !  "   he  exclaimed. 

"  If  you  must  go,"  said  she,  "  I  must  go  with  you 
and  bring  back  the  boat." 


3o6  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"But  I  can't  let  you,"  said  he.  "You'll  risk 
your  life.  I  can't  come  back  with  you,  and  I  won't 
send  you  back  alone  in  the  dark.  I  won't  go  — 
but  I  must  go.  No,  no.  Bessie,  my  brave  girl, 
let  me  take  you  home,  and  I'll  go  alone." 

"  If  you  must  go,"  said  Bessie,  "  I  go  too."  And 
stepping  lightly  into  the  boat  she  sat  in  the  stern. 
Jack  said  no  more,  but  unlocking  the  boat,  pushed 
off. 

"  I  trusted  you,"  said  she,  "  and  knew  that  if  you 
must  come,  I  ought  to  help  you." 

"  They  may  fire  on  us,"  said  Jack.  "  When  we 
touch  shore  and  the  sentinel  challenges  us,  I'll  jump 
out  and  push  you  as  far  as  I  can.  Bend  low  in  the 
boat,  and  pull  into  the  current,  fast." 

There  was  need  of  caution.  Two  hours  Jack 
paddled  to  gain  as  many  miles.  "  You're  not  going 
too  far,  are  you  ^  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Jack,  and  gladly  noticed  that  she  did 
not  know  that  the  Union  troops  were  across  the 
stream,  and  thus  had  no  suspicion  of  his  real  errand. 
He  would  not  undeceive  her  to-night,  but  land  on 
the  same  side  from  which  they  started.  The  waters 
ran  swift  and  shallow  at  the  ford.  Above  them  was 
the  hill  with  its  fifty-eight  black-throated  cannon. 
Jack  turned  the  boat  about,  and  cautiously  ap- 
proached the  shore,  stern  on. 

"  Halt !  who  comes  there  ?  "  rang  the  challenge 
of  a  sentinel.  Jack  knew  the  voice.  It  was  Eph 
Whitley. 

"  A  friend  !  "  said  Jack,  and  then  in  a  lower  tone, 
"  Keep  still  a  minute.      I'm  coming  ashore." 

While    still    several    yards    from    the    bank,    he 


A  Night  Ride  on  Stone  River.        Page   30; 


The  Battle  of  Stone  River  307 

pressed  Bessie's  hand  warmly,  whispered  a  good 
night,  and  stepped  out  into  the  water  knee-deep. 
He  gave  the  boat  a  push  with  all  his  might,  and 
Bessie  bent  to  the  paddle.  In  a  moment  he  was  on 
shore,  and  the  boat  and  Bessie  were  out  of  sight. 

Eph  called  the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  Jack  told 
him  that  Bragg's  army  was  in  full  retreat.  The 
news  spread  from  lip  to  lip,  and  brought  comfort  to 
thousands  of  soldiers  camping  that  night  in  the  rain. 

"  You  must  a  had  a  hard  time  rowin'  here  in  the 
dark,"  said  Eph.  "  You  come  right  by  your  own 
reg'maint,  too.  They've  just  got  here  under  Gen- 
eral Spears,  and  are  camped  on  the  other  side  be- 
tween us  and  the  bridge."  This  was  good  news  to 
Jack,  and  he  soon  found  his  own  company.  But 
for  the  sake  of  one  day  more  of  good  standing  in 
the  sight  of  Bessie  Granger,  he  was  glad  to  have 
rowed  one  unnecessary  mile,  and  to  have  landed  on 
the  other  side. 

The  I  St  Tennessee  spent  Sunday  in  repairing  the 
railroad  bridge.  Few  troops  entered  Murfreesboro 
that  day.  All  day  long  in  the  rain  the  people  of 
the  town  were  moving  out.  Vehicles  of  every  sort 
were  pressed  into  service.  The  only  carriage  the 
town  possessed  when  Rosecrans  entered  was  the 
hearse  in  which  Jack  made  his  entry.  It  was  a  sad 
day  to  the  town,  and  a  sad  one  for  Bessie  Granger. 
The  hospitals  were  left.  Bragg  had  no  time  to  take 
his  wounded,  and  left  his  surgeons  and  nurses  with 
them.  Bessie  went  to  the  university  and  worked 
a  while,  but  soon  returned  home  to  escape  from 
questions  concerning  Jack,  whom  many  wounded 
men  missed.     No  arm  had  been  more  strong,  no 


3o8  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

hand  more  tender  than  his,  and  no  one  in  the  hos- 
pital had  seen  Bessie  without  him.  She  went  to 
her  home  and  watched  the  endless  procession  pass  ; 
but  Jack  did  not  come.  She  half  repented  her  ex- 
pedition the  night  before,  yet  rejoiced  in  the  share 
she  had  borne  in  it.  She  could  not  fathom  the 
mystery  of  his  departure,  but  she  trusted  him.  She 
could  not  understand  why  his  evident  admiration  of 
her  stopped  short  of  an  avowal  of  affection,  but 
thought  him  possibly  deterred  by  her  superior  cult- 
ure. She  gave  up  trying  to  unravel  the  tangle  and 
simply  looked  for  Jack. 

Monday  morning,  bright  and  early.  Jack  dressed 
himself  in  his  army  blue,  but  threw  over  it  his  store 
overcoat.  He  had  obtained  permission  to  precede 
the  army  and  settle  his  bill  at  the  tavern,  agreeing 
to  join  his  regiment  as  it  passed  through  the  town. 
He  made  a  brief  stay  at  the  tavern,  and  quickly 
sought  Bessie.  Sad  and  dispirited  she  was  watching 
for  him,  and  flung  the  door  wide  as  he  entered. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come  ! "  she  cried.  "  1  trusted 
you  ! 

Jack's  heart  gave  a  great  leap  when  he  saw  her, 
and  it  filled  his  throat.  There  was  but  one  thing 
that  he  could  have  said  easily  in  that  moment,  and 
that  was  to  tell  her  that  he  loved  her. 

A  moment  he  stood  and  held  her  hand,  and  then 
without  a  word  flung  off  his  overcoat,  and  stood 
before  her  in  his  regimentals.  She  recoiled  from 
him  as  if  he  had  struck  her.  Then  she  sank  into 
a  chair  and  covered  her  face  to  hide  him  from  her 
sight,  and  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me  !  "  she  cried. 


The  Battle  of  Stone   River  309 

"  I  must  leave  you,  Bessie,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  first." 

"  You  have  betrayed  me  !  "  she  cried.  "  You 
have  deceived  me  !  You  are  a  traitor  to  the  South 
and  to  me  !  " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Bessie,"  he  said.  "  I'm  no  traitor 
to  any  one.  I've  been  in  the  Union  army  from  the 
start.  I've  done  my  duty  there.  I  can't  now  make 
you  understand  it  all,  but  you  can  understand  now 
some  things  I  couldn't  explain  at  the  time." 

"  I  only  understand  that  you  have  been  false  to 
me,  and  to  my  country  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  am  a  fool 
to  cry  for  you.      Leave  me  !      I  hate  you  !  " 

The  sound  of  a  fife  and  drum  was  heard  ap- 
proaching. 

"Bessie,"  he  said,  "that's  my  reg'maint.  I've 
got  to  join  it  in  just  a  minute.  If  I  had  time  to 
explain,  some  things  wouldn't  seem  so  bad  to  you 
as  they  do.  If  I'd  been  quite  so  bad  as  you  say, 
I  wouldn't  a  come  back  to  you  this  morning.  I 
reckon  I've  done  wrong,  but  I  don't  quite  see  how 
I  could  help  it.  I  don't  blame  you  for  hatin'  me  ; 
but,  Bessie,  I  don't  feel  thataway  to-wards  you.  I'd 
like  a  chance  to  explain,  sometime,  but  I  can't  do  it 
now.     Good-by,  Bessie." 

The  regiment  was  coming  up  the  street,  and  the 
tune  was  "  Dixie."     Jack  turned  on  the  threshold. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said  again. 

"  Oh,  come  back  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  say.     I  don't  know  what  to  do  !     No,  go  !  " 

Jack  turned  back  and  stood  a  moment  beside  her 
as  she  sat  weeping.  He  stooped  and  took  her  hand. 
She  did  not  resist,  and  as  he  dropped  it,  he  thought 


3IO  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

her  fingers  clasped  his  own  a  little.  "  Good-by," 
he  said  ;  "  I'll  come  again,  sometime,  if  you'll  let 
me."      And  then  he  ran  to  join  his  regiment. 

Spears'  brigade  was  sent  through  Murfreesboro 
in  pursuit  of  the  Confederates.  No  strong  attack 
was  made  upon  them,  but  an  effectual  skirmish  was 
kept  up  throughout  the  day,  and  the  rebels  were 
followed  several  miles,  with  frequent  minor  fights 
and  some  loss.  General  Spears,  in  his  report  of  the 
battle,  especially  commends  the  conduct  of  "  the  gal- 
lant Tennesseeans "  who  took  part  in  that  fight. 
Certainly  among  them  all  there  was  none  who  fought 
with  better  zest  that  day  than  Jack.  He  rejoiced 
in  the  opportunity  of  fighting.  He  rejoiced  in  the 
attempt  to  restore  himself  in  some  measure  in  his 
own  esteem.  He  could  not  feel  that  he  had  been 
wholly  to  blame,  yet  he  had  somehow  to  reinstate 
himself  in  his  own  good  graces.  He  was  glad  that 
Bessie  had  not  wholly  refused  him  permission  to 
see  her  again,  but  he  did  not  regret  that  his  duties 
prevented  his  doing  so  at  once.  For  a  few  days  he 
was  kept  beyond  the  town  with  his  regiment,  and 
then  he  was  ordered  to  Nashville  to  report  the  re- 
sults of  his  work  in  the  secret  service.  When  the 
mail  went  north,  he  rode  on  the  box  of  the  hearse 
with  the  driver,  with  a  guard  before  and  behind. 
When  he  arrived  in  Nashville,  Colonel  Truesdail 
commended  him  for  his  service,  and  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  like  to  engage  in  that  kind  of  work  for 
the  rest  of  the  war.  But  Jack  thanked  him  and 
declined.  He  was  glad  if  he  had  done  well,  he 
said,  but  it  wasn't  the  sort  of  work  he  liked.  It 
sorter  left  a  bad  taste  in  his  mouth. 


XXVII 

Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout  Mountain 

FOR  six  months  after  the  battle  of  Stone 
River,  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  was 
comparatively  inactive.  There  were  several 
minor  engagements,  mostly  about  points 
where  there  had  already  been  fighting,  as  at  Fort 
Donelson  and  Frankhn,  but  there  was  little  progress. 
The  Tullahoma  campaign,  which  was  an  aggressive 
movement  on  the  part  of  Rosecrans,  and  which 
ended  in  driving  Bragg,  more  by  manoeuvring  than 
by  fighting,  out  of  Tennessee,  occupied  less  than 
two  weeks  in  the  summer,  from  June  23d  to  July 
4th.  Then  Rosecrans  advanced  to  Chattanooga, 
and  the  world  knows  the  rest. 

Jack  was  not  with  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland 
on  this  campaign.  In  the  early  spring  the  ist 
Tennessee  was  at  its  old  stamping-ground  at  Camp 
Nelson,  and  the  Second  Regiment  was  at  Somerset. 
There  they  were  provided  with  horses,  and  were 
known  from  this  time  on  as  "  Tennessee  Mounted 
Infantry." 

"  Wall,  Jack,  how  d'ye  like  ridin'  ? "  asked  Sam 
Loomis. 

"I  can  stand  it  ef  the  critter  can,"  said  Jack; 
"  but  a  heap  o'  the  time  it's  about  all  I  can  do  to 
git  enough  fur  myself  to  eat,  let  alone  the  horse." 

"  Who  d'ye  reckon'll  be  our  gin'ral  now  ?  " 
311 


312  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

"  I  heerd  we're  likely  to  have  Carter  agin." 

"  I  hope  so.  Spears  warn't  no  fool ;  but  Charter's 
the  bully." 

"  How'd  he  come  to  leave  us  ^  " 

"  Hit  was  Andy  Johnson  done  it.  He  wanted 
to  git  Spears  in." 

"  Wall,  he  mought  a  worked  for  a  wuss  man,  but 
I  hope  we'll  have  Carter  agin." 

A  few  weeks  later  both  regiments  were  encamped 
near  Somerset,  under  command  of  General  Carter, 
who  had  a  brigade  of  eight  thousand  troops,  mostly 
raw,  and  six  thousand  of  them  Tennesseeans.  One 
night  Jack  and  his  regiment  camped  at  Logan's 
cross  roads,  close  to  the  site  of  their  camp  two  years 
before  at  the  battle  of  Mill  Spring. 

"  War's  funny  business,  hain't  it.  Jack  ?  "  asked 
Joe  Hallet. 

"It  looks  thataway  a  heap  o'  times.  What  you 
thinkin'  bout  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  here  we  be,  two  year  atter  fightin'  here, 
right  back  agin,  same's  before,  we  on  this  side  the 
river,  and  the  rebs  at  Mill  Spring  on  t'other.  We 
don't  make  much  progress,  do  we  ?  " 

"  They  have  made  progress.  But  it's  mighty 
discouragin'.  'Pears  lack  the  gen'rals  don't  know 
as  much  as  they'd  orter.  They  hain't  no  manner  of 
excuse  for  doin'  any  fightin'  here  a  tall.  Ef  we'd  a 
ben  up  to  snuff  a  tall,  we'd  a  druv  the  rebs  so  fur 
south  while  we  was  a-drivin'  on  'em  they  wouldn't 
a  come  back  till  the  day  o'  jedgmaint,  an'  late  in  the 
evenin'  at  that !  " 

"  What  d'ye  reckon's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  The  tap  root  of  the  trouble  is  that  the  rebs  has 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain        313 

been  allowed  to  stay  in  East  Tennessy.  We've  let 
'em  stay  there,  first  because  our  gen'rals  didn't  know 
that  the  folks  there  was  loyal.  Then  we've  let  'em 
stay  there  because  we  thought  we  couldn't  live  on  the 
country,  and  couldn't  take  wagon  trains  for  sup- 
plies, an'  they  never  seem  to  think  that  we  ort  to 
be  able  to  live  where  the  rebs  can.  An'  that  where 
the  rebs  git  out  so  easy  we  could  as  easy  git  in. 
An'  then  they  let  'em  stay  there  because  they  think 
they'll  do  as  little  harm  there  as  anywhere.  But  all 
the  raids  inter  Kaintuck  comes  from  there." 

"  I  begin  to  believe  the  gen'rals  is  as  big  fools  as 
other  folks." 

"Wall,  they  be  an'  they  hain't.  Now  there  was 
Sherman.  He  made  a  powerful  big  blunder  two 
year  ago  when  he  was  in  command  here.  But  they 
do  say  he's  done  some  o'  the  tallest  kind  o'  fightin' 
sence." 

"  That's  what  I  heerd  tell.  But  gen'rals  don't 
know  everything,  by  a  long  shot." 

"  No,  they  don't.  Now  there's  the  battle  o' 
Perryville.  They  wouldn't  nary  one  of  the  two 
gen'rals  a  fit  there,  ef  they  hadn't  both  a  blundered 
an'  hadter." 

"I've  heerd  that's  so.  Both  thought  they  was 
fightin'  part  o'  the  other's  army  stidder  the  hull  on 
it,  but  they  mighty  soon  found  they  was  wrong." 

"  Then,  there  was  the  battle  o'  Stone  River. 
Both  gen'rals  had  sense  enough  to  make  a  mighty 
good  plan,  but  nary  one  on  'em  had  sense  enough 
to  know  that  the  other  had  sense  enough  to  make 
the  same  plan." 

"  Not  knowin'  makes  a  heap  o'  trouble." 


314  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Yes,  an'  they's  another  thing  that  makes  a  heap 
o'  trouble,  one  gen'ral  thinks  the  other  side  has  got 
the  biggest  force.  He  allers  thinks  thataway.  It's 
sorter  lack  a  fish  when  you  got  him  on  yer  hook, 
he's  allers  so  much  bigger'n  he  is  when  ye  git  him 
landed.  Wall  now,  a  heap  o'  the  time  both  gen'rals 
is  skeered  of  each  other.  One  is  afraid,  an'  t'other 
dassent.  An'  they  never  stop  to  think  that  the 
other  fellers  is  jes'  as  much  afeard  as  they  be." 

"  I  reckon  that's  about  hit." 

"  Sartin,  that's  it.  An'  then  they's  another 
trouble.  When  we've  licked,  we  don't  hardly  ever 
foller  up  the  thing,  an'  hit  'em  again,  or  ef  we  do, 
we  go  slow  as  the  seven-year  itch." 

"  Yes,  Buell  had  orter  licked  Bragg  wuss  atter 
Perryville." 

"  in  course  he'd  ort.  What  business  had  we 
to  let  Bragg  take  all  them  wagon  trains  outen  the 
State,  an'  all  the  best  horses  in  Kaintuck  ?  " 

"  But  then,  Rosecrans  done  the  same  at  Stone 
River." 

"  Yes,  they  all  do  the  same.  They  spend  month 
atter  month  a-gittin'  ready  to  do  somethin',  and  then 
hit  'em  a  little,  an'  say,  '  Now  you  hurry  an'  git 
outen  here  right  quick,  or  you'll  git  hurt,'  an'  then 
the  rebs  moves  on  'bout  twenty  mile,  an'  sends  out 
their  cavalry  to  raid  our  wagon  trains,  and  we  git 
good  ready  atter  while  to  move  on  agin." 

"  Hit's  sorter  lack  see-saw.  Hit's  sorter  lack  a 
game  o'  checkers.  Here  we  ben  fightin'  fur  two 
year  an'  better,  an'  now  we're  both  on  us  back  in 
our  own  king  row,  an'  both  sides  movin'  back'ards 
an'  for'ards  in  their  double  corners." 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       315 

"  But  a  heap  o'  good  men  gits  moved  ofFn  the 
board." 

"  Yes,  an'  some  on  'em  kings." 

Narrow  as  was  this  view  of  the  progress  of  the 
war,  there  was  much  to  confirm  it  as  witnessed  on 
their  horizon.  The  fall  of  Vicksburg,  which  came 
that  summer,  and  the  repulse  of  Lee  at  Gettysburg, 
were  great  events,  but  in  a  way  remote  from  them, 
though  they  broke  the  back  of  the  Rebellion.  But 
their  great  event  in  the  summer  was  a  raid  into  East 
Tennessee,  under  the  gallant  General  Sanders,  him- 
self a  Southern  man,  and  a  relative  of  Jefferson 
Davis.  On  this  raid,  in  which  Jack  bore  his  part 
with  honor,  they  captured  a  few  hundred  prisoners, 
destroyed  some  Confederate  property,  and  burned  the 
railroad  bridge  at  Strawberry  Plains.  It  was  counted 
a  successful  raid,  as  it  accomplished  its  end,  and 
with  trifling  loss  to  the  men  involved.  But  it 
seemed  a  deplorable  thing  that  the  Union  army 
could  find  no  better  and  greater  thing  to  do  than 
that  for  which  the  ignorant  mountaineers,  in  their 
misguided  attempt  to  do  something  to  help  put 
down  the  Rebellion,  had  done  two  years  before  and 
paid  for  with  their  lives. 

On  this  raid  Jack  paid  a  hurried  visit  to  his  old 
home,  close  to  which  they  passed.  He  called  at 
the  home  of  the  Hansons,  and  there  fed  his  horse 
and  ate  a  meal.  He  found  them  well,  but  greatly 
saddened  by  the  death  of  their  father  and  brother. 
Martha  Hanson  inquired  with  especial  interest  con- 
cerning Eph  Whitley,  and  Jack  v/as  glad  to  tell  her 
of  the  goodness  and  courage  of  her  lover.  Jack 
remembered  that  he  had  promised  Henry  Hanson 


3i6  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

to  look  after  his  sisters,  and  he  opined  that  so  far 
as  Martha  was  concerned,  his  task  would  not  weigh 
upon  him  if  Ephraim  Whitley  should  survive  the  war. 

"  Hooray,  boys  !     Have  ye  heerd  the  news  ?  " 

Sergeant  Jack  Casey  came  running  into  camp 
near  Somerset,  one  hot  day  in  midsummer.  The 
soldiers  who  were  lying  in  the  shade  where  they 
could  find  shade,  in  undress  uniform  of  all  sorts, 
roused  to  hear  it.  News  had  come  to  have  a  lan- 
guid interest,  but  was  always  acceptable. 

"  What's  the  news  ? "  asked  Dan  Schofield,  an 
iron-gray  old  trooper,  removing  his  cob  pipe,  and 
deliberately  blowing  the  smoke  at  a  horse-fly  that 
was  buzzing  about  his  nose. 

"  We're  goin'  to  march." 

"  Mighty  hot  weather  fur  that,"  replied  Dan. 

"  Whar  be  we  goin'  ^  "  asked  Sam  Loomis. 

"  Inter  East  Tennessy." 

"  Git  out !"  said  Dan.     "Ye  cyan't  fool  me  !  " 

"  It's  a  fact,  shore's  the  gun's  iron,"  said  Jack. 

"  Hit's  ben  a  fact  ever  sence  the  war  begun,  but 
hit  don't  never  happen." 

"  Wall,  it's  a-goin'  to  happen  now.  Gen'ral  Burn- 
side  has  come,  and  he's  goin'  to  make  it  his  chief 
business  to  capture  East  Tennessy.  Rosecrans  is 
a-goin'  to  hold  Bragg  at  Chattanoogy  an'  lick  him 
thar,  an'  we're  a-goin'  to  strike  straight  fur  Knoxville." 

"  How  d'ye  hear?  " 

"  Cun'l  Byrd  tole  me.  They  hain't  no  secret. 
We're  all  goin'   to  know  it  come  mornin'." 

"  I  hain't  a-goin'  to  tell  ye  ye  lie,  but  I've  heerd 
so  often   that  we're  goin'  inter  East  Tennessy  that 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       317 

I've  sorter  made  up  my  mind  to  die  on  the  other 
side  er  Jurdin,  as  the  preacher  says." 

"  They  hain't  no  lyin'  about  this,"  said  Jack. 
"  The  news  comes  straight.  An'  Burnside's  head- 
quarters is  a-goin'  with  our  brigade." 

"  By  jolly !  We'll  hatter  patch  up  our  does,  and 
keep  our  horses  curried,  won't  we  ?  " 

"  You  kin  expect  orders  to  march  to-morrow,  I'll 
tell  you  that  now." 

The  camp  was  soon  astir  with  the  bustle  of  prepa- 
ration for  the  breaking  of  camp. 

"  Fellers,"  said  old  Dan,  as  they  lay  before  the 
tents  in  the  moonlight  that  evening,  "fellers,  you 
young  chaps  don't  know  what  it  is  to  want  ter  git 
home.  I  lef  a  wife  dyin'  with  the  consumption, 
an'  nine  young  uns  to  home.  I  hated  to  leave  'em 
like  puUin'  teeth,  but  I  wanted  to  fight  fur  my  prin- 
ciples. I  ain't  one  o'  the  tender-hearted  sort,  but 
when  hit  comes  to  talkin'  about  goin'  back  to  East 
Tennessy,  hit  breaks  me  all  up." 

"  I  reckon  we  know  somethin'  about  it,"  said 
Jack.  "  Some  on  us  has  got  wives,  and  more  on  us 
hopes  to  have  ;  an'  we've  got  mothers  and  sisters, 
too,  a  heap  on  us." 

"I  know.  But  this  is  different.  Wall,  I  wish 
the  Lord  we  would  go,  and  mebby  we  be  a-goin'  ;  but 
I've  ben  disappinted  so  often  las'  two  year,  I'm 
hanged  ef  I'm  a-goin'  to  beheve  it  till  I  enter  the 
valley  o'  the  Sequatchie." 

The  grizzled  old  veteran  coughed  a  little,  and 
drawing  from  his  pocket  a  twist  of  tobacco,  he  cut 
it  into  his  cob  pipe  with  a  wicked-looking  bowie 
knife,   and    asked    his    next    neighbor    for   a   light. 


3i8  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Dan,"  asked  Sam  Loomis,  "  how  fast  does  a 
baby  grow  ? " 

"  What  d'ye  mean,  how  fast  ?  "  asked  the  older 
man. 

"  I  mean  how  long  does  It  take  a  baby  to  git  too 
big  fur  a  par  o'  shoes  like  them?  " 

He  fished  in  his  knapsack  and  brought  out  a 
pair  of  baby  shoes,  carefully  wrapped  in  a  red 
handkerchief. 

"  'Bout  six  months,  mebby,"  said  the  authority  on 
family  matters. 

"I've  ben  packin'  on  'em  nigh  onter  two  year,"  said 
the  younger  soldier,  sorrowfully.  "  Hit's  our  first 
young  un,  an'  was  borned  'bout  a  month  atter  I 
lef.  I  'lowed  when  I  got  these  I'd  git  home  by 
the  time  he  could  toddle  around  the  floor." 

"  You'll  hatter  loot  another  store  an  git  some 
bigger  ones.  I'm  afeard  he'd  outgrow  another  par 
afore  we  raley  git  back." 

The  young  fellow's  voice  was  husky. 

"  Blast  yer  smoke  !  "  he  said.  "  That's  mighty 
rank  tobaccer  yer  usin'.  Lemme  have  a  pipeful 
on  it." 

"  Here,  fellers,"  said  Jack,  "  this  won't  never 
do.  We're  gittin'  sorter  lack  a  funeral.  This  hain't 
no  way  to  be  a-gittin'  ready  to  go  home.  Less  sing 
somethin'.  " 

They  tried  one  or  two  hymns,  which  did  not 
quite  seem  appropriate.  "  I  am  bound  for  the 
promised  land  "  came  the  nearest  to  it,  but  did  not 
quite  fill  the  requirements.  Sergeant  Joe  Hallet 
started  and  sang  with  a  little  help  from  the  few  who 
thought  they  knew  it,  and  a  number  of  well-meant 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       319 

but  discordant  attempts  at  assistance  from  those 
who  knew  that  they  did  not,  a  song  beginning, 

"  Hey,  Betty  Martin,  tip-toe,  tip-toe  ! 
Hey,  Betty  Martin,  tip-toe  fine  !  " 

Then,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  old  Dan  sang  his 
first  and  last  song  in  camp.  It  was  a  wonderful 
thing,  not  to  be  judged  at  all  as  a  musical  perform- 
ance, yet  it  was  v^oted  a  hearty  success.  It  had  an 
intricate  refrain,  whose  burden  was  pretty  Jennie 
Jenkins.  No  one  ever  could  learn  it,  and  Dan 
next  day  was  impolite  to  a  man  who  asked  to  be 
taught  that  chorus  ;  so  all  he  could  remember,  and 
he  was  not  certain  that  was  right,  was  the  closing  or 
the  refrain, 

"  To  my  double,  fiddle,  treble. 
To  my  purty  Jinnie  Jinkins,  oh  !  " 

Joe  Hallet  was  getting  hilarious,  and  he  started 
*'  Skip  t'-m'-loo."  The  men  who  had  handkerchiefs 
tied  them  around  their  left  arms,  and  thus  were  labelled 
as  girls.  There  was  a  shortage  of  girls,  to  be  sure, 
but  that  was  in  keeping  with  the  actual  situation; 
and  the  men's  thoughts  were  somewhere  else  as 
they  seized  their  partners,  and  sang  their  praises, 

"Pretty  as  a  red-bird,  skip  t'-m'-loo  ! 
Skip  t'-m'-loo,  my  darling  !  " 

And  then  some  one  started,  "  When  Johnny  comes 
marching  home."  It  was  a  good  while  since  they 
had  sung  it.  The  idea  of  going  home  was  not  as 
constantly  in  mind  as  it  once  had  been,  but  they 
made   out  well.     Again  they  recalled   their  former 


320  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

dreams  :  how  the  girls  would  sing,  the  boys  would 
shout,  the  ladies  —  they  pronounced  it  la-dyes  in 
singing  —  they  would  all  turn  out,  and  they'd  all 
feel  gay  when  Johnny  came  marching  home. 

The  next  day  verified  the  news.  They  were  to 
start  without  delay,  and  start  they  did  over  ground 
long  since  familiar,  by  Mt.  Vernon,  London,  Will- 
iamsburg, and  Boston,  by  Marsh  Creek  and  Chit- 
wood,  through  Scott  County  and  into  Morgan. 
General  Burnside  accompanied  this  brigade,  and 
sent  his  main  army  by  other  routes.  Carter's  bri- 
gade was  proud  to  escort  the  general  of  the  army, 
and  did  some  brilliant  fighting  on  the  way.  They 
marched  like  the  hosts  of  Joshua,  advancing  to 
redeem  the  land  promised  to  their  fathers  from  the 
Canaanite.  They  fought  with  a  fierceness  born  of 
their  plucky  Scotch-Irish  blood.  They  rammed 
down  their  bullets  with  a  prayer  or  a  curse,  accord- 
ing to  the  religious  experience  of  the  individual ; 
but  it  all  meant  the  same,  and  drew  a  fine  bead,  and 
when  they  pulled  the  trigger,  said  Amen.  Noth- 
ing was  able  to  stand  before  them.  They  swarmed 
through  Big  Creek  Gap.  They  descended  on 
Knoxville,  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold.  They  beset 
Cumberland  Gap  behind  and  before,  and  captured 
it  and  all  its  host.  They  flowed  along  the  valley  of 
the  Holston,  like  the  waters  in  the  freshets  of 
spring,  and  bore  all  opposition  down  before  them 
like  a  flood.  They  began  their  irresistible  march 
on  the  20th  of  August,  and  rested  not  until  near 
the  middle  of  September ;  and  then  Knoxville,  and 
the  river,  and  the  railroad,  and  the  Gap  were  all 
shadowed  by  the  Union  flag. 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       321 

There  was  rejoicing  in  Knoxville.  The  loyal 
citizens  of  the  town  welcomed  the  Union  army  with 
heartiest  words  of  good-will.  General  Carter  was 
appointed  provost  marshal-general  of  East  Tennes- 
see, with  headquarters  at  Knoxville.  Burnside's 
host  began  to  pass  down  the  valley  and  across  the 
hills  toward  Chattanooga,  where  he  hoped  to  effect 
a  junction  with  Rosecrans,  and  join  him  in  another 
conquest  of  the  still  unconquered  Bragg.  On  the 
nth  of  September,  Colonel  Byrd  occupied  Athens, 
and  on  the  29th,  after  a  skirmish,  he  entered  Sweet- 
water, which  villages  lie  well  on  the  way  to  Chatta- 
nooga. But  before  Chattanooga  was  reached,  the 
Confederate  General  Williams  appeared  to  the  east 
of  Knoxville,  marching  down  the  railroad  to  attack 
the  city.  He  was  repelled ;  but  soon  the  outposts 
toward  the  south  were  also  attacked,  and  in  Octo- 
ber Byrd's  advance  was  recalled  to  the  defence  of 
Knoxville,  which  was  endangered  by  the  coming  of 
General  Longstreet. 

Since  the  Federal  occupation  of  Knoxville,  some 
slight  defensive  works  had  been  thrown  up  about 
it ;  but  it  now  became  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
necessity  that  these  should  be  strengthened  to  op- 
pose the  superior  numbers  of  Longstreet  and  the 
impetuous  dash  of  his  men,  before  which,  thus  far, 
nothing  had  been  able  to  stand.  To  give  time  for 
this  work,  the  cavalry  were  disposed  to  protect  the 
city  from  approach  ;  and  a  temporary  organization 
of  the  mounted  men,  left  without  a  commander  by 
the  promotion  of  General  Carter,  was  effected,  with 
General  Sanders  at  the  head.  The  men  knew 
Sanders  and  admired  him.     He   had  led  some  of 


322.  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

them  in  their  raid  upon  the  Holston  bridge  the 
year  before,  and  they  understood  his  coolness, 
courage,  and  determination.  Under  his  command 
they  fought  with  enthusiasm. 

Longstreet  crossed  the  Holston  River  below  the 
city,  and  approached  it  from  the  west.  The  key  to 
the  possession  of  the  city  in  this  direction  was  an 
earthwork,  which  later  was  named  for  General 
Sanders.  This  was  incomplete  when  the  enemy 
approached,  and  time  was  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  complete  it.  A  mile  west  of  this  work,  between 
the  river  and  the  railroad,  and  covering  the  road 
that  leads  from  London,  Sanders  took  his  stand  on 
the  night  of  November  i6th. 

The  next  morning  the  Confederate  forces  moved 
against  this  screen  of  cavalry  that  thinly  shut  them 
out  from  the  city. 

"  Boys,  d'ye  reckon  we're  here  to  fight,  or  jes'  to 
sorter  skirmish  with  'em  for  an  hour  or  two  ? " 
asked  Sam  Loomis. 

"  We're  here  to  fight,"  said  Jack. 

"  We  can't  never  hold  our  ground  against  Long- 
street's  whole  army." 

"  We're  to  hold  it  till  they  send  word  that  the 
fort's  finished,"  said  Jack. 

"  I  hope  they'll  work  mighty  fast  then,  for  this 
here  ain't  no  army  to  send  out  agin  Longstreet." 

"  They  hain't  no  better  army  to  send  agin  him," 
replied  Jack. 

"  Man  for  man,  that's  so.  But  Sanders  hain't 
got  but  a  handful  o'  cavalry." 

"Quit  yerjabberin'  thar,"  said  old  Dan.  "You 
ast  a  heap  o'  fool  questions.     Ef  Sanders  says  to 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain        323 

hold  this  hill  till  the  fort  is  finished,  we'll  stand  here 
ef  hit  takes  till  the  pit  freezes  over." 

All  that  day  they  held  the  line.  At  first  the 
rebels  advanced  against  it  with  easy  and  confident 
expectation  of  pushing  back  the  cavalry  and  doing 
their  real  fighting  at  the  fort ;  but  as  they  met  with 
strong  resistance,  they  added  to  their  strength,  and 
renewed  the  attack  again  and  again.  All  that  day 
the  infantry  surged  against  the  line  of  horsemen, 
and  all  day  long  they  were  held  at  bay.  Night  put 
an  end  to  the  attack,  and  the  weary  men  rested  on 
their  arms. 

Late  that  night  Burnside  sent  for  Sanders  and 
for  his  chief  engineer. 

"  Colonel  Poe,"  he  asked  the  latter,  "  how  long 
will  it  take  to  make  those  works  defensible  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  have  them  done  by  noon  to- 
morrow," was  the  reply. 

"  General  Sanders,  can  your  men  hold  their 
ground  till  then  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  sir.  They  can  hardly  press  us 
harder  than  they  have  done  to-day." 

"  Your  men  are  heroes,  every  one.  You  shall 
have  every  horse  and  sabre  that  we  have  ;  but  we 
can  spare  no  infantry,  for  the  city  must  be  defended 
on  every  side.  Hold  the  line  till  noon,  and  we  will 
drive  them  back." 

Poe  and  Sanders  went  out  together. 

"  Come  with  me  to  my  quarters,  Sanders,"  said 
Poe,  "  and  rest  a  few  hours." 

"  I  will,"  said  Sanders,  "for  I  am  weary." 

"  Poe,"  said  Sanders,  "  I'm  afraid  it  will  take 
longer  than  noon  to  finish  that  fort." 


324  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

"  I  am  afraid  so,  too,  Sanders,  but  I  think  by 
that  time  it  will  be  defensible.  But  every  spadeful 
of  earth  that  we  can  add  after  that  hour  will  make 
the  city  that  much  more  secure." 

"  Of  course." 

"  Sanders,  if  we  are  hindered  in  our  work  by  the 
artillery  firing,  do  you  suppose  that  you  can  hold 
that  line  past  noon  ?  " 

"  It  is  murder  to  hold  it  for  a  minute  longer  than 
is  necessary  ;  but  if  the  safety  of  the  city  depends  on 
it,  I  will  hold  it  until  we  are  forced  back,  even  if  it 
is  after  noon." 

They  lay  down  on  the  same  blanket,  and  dropped 
asleep,  but  soon  Sanders  was  recalled  to  his  com- 
mand. When  the  day  broke,  the  attack  was  re- 
newed, and  with  evident  determination  to  break  the 
line  without  more  ado.  The  Union  soldiers  had 
made  for  themselves  frail  defences  of  fence  rails,  and 
stood  behind  them,  dishevelled  and  powder  black- 
ened, fighting  fiercely.  Once  the  rebels  pressing 
down  the  road  with  a  wild  yell  broke  through  the 
line,  and  drove  the  Tennesseeans  from  their  rail  pens. 
Sanders  saw  the  movement,  and  walked  calmly  to 
the  place,  standing  in  one  of  the  vacant  cribs  with 
half  his  height  exposed  to  the  rebel  fire.  It  was 
only  a  moment  that  he  stood  alone.  Fifty  men 
were  at  his  side  in  an  instant.  Jack  fired  his  car- 
bine into  the  struggling  mass  of  Confederates,  and, 
fixing  his  sabre  bayonet,  rushed  into  the  melee. 
The  rebels  were  surging  against  the  rails.  Jack 
drove  his  bayonet  through  the  shoulder  of  one  of 
them  who  was  climbing  over.  Old  Dan  met  in  sin- 
gle fight  a  swarthv  Texan  who  was  raising  his  sabre 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       325 

to  strike  at  Sanders,  and  when  the  blow  fell,  it  was 
on  the  head  of  grizzled  old  Dan,  and  his  sabre  was 
in  the  Texan's  breast. 

Hour  after  hour  the  men  in  the  fort  watched 
with  admiration  the  unequal  contest,  and  bent  their 
energies  anew  to  the  work  of  completing  the  fort. 
Noon  came,  and  still  the  cavalry,  dismounted  and 
fighting  hand  to  hand,  held  the  enemy  at  bay. 
Sanders  looked  at  his  watch,  then  turned  and 
scanned  the  earthwork,  and  turned  to  the  fight 
again. 

One  o'clock,  and  again  he  turned  and  looked. 

"  They're  doing  well,  boys,"  he  said.  "  Hold 
on  a  little  longer." 

Two  o'clock,  and  still  the  fight  went  on. 

"  Hold  it  an  hour,  boys,"  he  cried,  "just  another 
hour,  and  we  will  fall  back  !  " 

The  fight  grew  more  furious.  The  rebels  real- 
ized that  if  they  were  to  reach  the  fort  that  day 
they  must  speedily  break  the  line.  Rallying  again 
they  came  on  with  an  ear-piercing  yell,  and  broke 
full  on  the  middle  of  the  line.  It  wavered.  San- 
ders saw  it  weakening,  and  hurled  himself  into  the 
place  that  was  beginning  to  break.  There  was  a 
cheer,  and  the  men  rallied  to  his  support.  There 
was  a  moment  of  murderous  fighting,  and  then  again 
the  rebels  fell  back ;  but  the  gallant  Sanders  fell  at 
the  front,  mortally  wounded. 

It  was  useless  to  hold  the  line  longer.  The  cur- 
tain of  cavalry  that  for  two  days  had  shut  in  the 
city  from  Longstreet's  approach  withdrew  like  the 
gathering  of  a  scroll,  taking  their  wounded  and 
the  body  of  their  leader.     "They  buried  him  darkly. 


326  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

at  dead  of  night,"  tliat  the  officers  scattered  along 
the  Hne  might  attend  his  funeral ;  and  the  whole 
army  mourned  the  death  of  a  hero. 

As  Jack  was  turning  to  leave,  he  heard  a  voice 
faintly  calling  him  from  the  rail  pen  next  to  his. 

"  Why,  Sam,"  said  he,  "  you're  wounded,  ain't  you  ? 
I'm  mighty  sorry.    Come,  I'll  help  you  to  the  town." 

"  I'm  afeard  I'm  done  for.  Jack,  Look  how 
this  arm  is  splintered.     An'  see  how  it  bleeds." 

Jack  twisted  his  handkerchief  around  the  shattered 
arm,  and  helped  his  friend  to  the  rear. 

"Cheer  up,  ole  feller,"  he  said  "you  ain't  a-goin* 
to  die." 

"  I  reckon  I  hain't  good  fur  much  more  fightin'." 

"  I'm  afeard  not,  Sam.  I  reckon  you'll  hatter  go 
home  an'  git  sorter  'quainted  with  that  baby  that 
was  born  atter  you  enlisted." 

It  was  hard  getting  him  to  the  rear,  but  Jack 
succeeded,  and  saw  him  safely  in  the  hospital.  That 
night  they  told  Jack  that  Sam  would  recover,  but 
must  lose  his  arm,  and  Jack  went  next  day  to  assist 
the  amputation.  Something  dropped  from  its  quiv- 
ering fingers  when  the  knife  severed  it,  and  Jack 
picked  up,  and  reverently  tucked  under  the  pillow, 
the  pair  of  little  outgrown  baby  shoes. 

The  next  day  Longstreet's  hardy  soldiers  bore 
down  upon  the  new  fort,  which  by  order  of  General 
Burnside  was  named  Fort  Sanders,  Never  was 
there  a  more  determined  dash ;  never  was  there 
braver  defence.  But  the  lives  of  the  brave  men 
who  fell  with  Sanders  had  purchased  their  value  in 
the  strength  of  the  place,  and  Longstreet's  hardy 
men  fell  back  without  advantage. 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       327 

Then  ensued  a  siege,  with  wet  and  foggy  weather, 
and  no  fighting  of  importance.  The  other  works 
were  strengthened  ;  but  it  was  confidently  expected 
that  the  main  attack  would  be  made  on  Fort  Sanders. 
A  lot  of  rusty  telegraph  wire  was  procured,  and 
stretched  from  stump  to  stump  over  the  ground 
across  which  the  attack  must  proceed.  Provisions 
grew  scarce  in  Knoxville,  and  the  garrison  must 
have  starved,  had  not  the  loyal  people  above  the 
city,  at  great  risk,  floated  down  provisions  to  them 
in  the  night,  which  served  to  provide  half  rations. 
Longstreet  began  to  expect  that  he  would  capture 
Knoxville  without  more  fighting,  such  as  had  cost 
him  so  dear. 

But  word  came  to  him  from  Chattanooga,  which 
caused  him  to  hasten  his  plans.  Bragg  was  not 
succeeding  as  well  as  he  had  hoped.  Rosecrans 
had  been  relieved  from  his  command,  and  Grant 
had  come.  Rosecrans  had  been  full  of  plans  for 
the  saving  of  the  Union  army,  and  freely  gave  them 
to  General  Grant,  who  naively  remarks  in  his  ac- 
count of  the  campaign,  "  My  only  wonder  was  that 
he  had  not  carried  them  out."  Grant  was  now 
carrying  them  out,  and  Bragg  was  by  no  means 
happy. 

This  made  it  important  that  Longstreet  should 
have  done  with  Knoxville,  and  hasten  to  help  Bragg. 
So  on  Sunday,  November  29,  1863,  he  began 
action  by  pouring  upon  Fort  Sanders  his  heaviest 
artillery  fire.  For  twenty  minutes  the  rain  of 
metal  continued,  and  then  stopped :  and  out  of 
the  woods  there  swept  the  lines  of  Longstreet's 
splendid    army.       The    night    had   been    cold ;  the 


328  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

morning  was  dull  and  foggy.  The  men  got  en- 
tangled in  the  meshes  of  the  wire.  The  guns  tore 
great  gaps  in  their  ranks.  The  musketry  poured 
in  its  shot  upon  them.  They  broke  all  lines. 
They  ignored  all  organization.  There  was  never 
a  more  splendid  exhibition  of  individual  courage 
than  when,  disentangling  themselves  from  the  wire, 
those  men  rose  up  and  pressed  on,  singly  and  in 
squads,  toward  the  fresh  clay  of  Fort  Sanders. 
Water  had  been  poured  on  the  fresh  earth.  It  had 
frozen  thinly.  Sometimes  the  men  slipped  upon 
it,  and  again  they  broke  through.  They  floundered 
in  the  mud  of  the  ditch,  but  they  ploughed  their 
way  through.  They  sank  deep  in  the  fresh  earth 
of  the  parapet,  but  they  slowly  made  their  way  up 
the  slope.  They  fell  by  scores  as  they  slowly 
climbed  the  redoubt,  but  they  came  on.  They 
planted  their  battle  flags  on  the  crest.  They  met 
the  garrison  with  empty  guns  and  fixed  bayonets. 
They  climbed  over  the  dead  bodies  of  their  com- 
rades and  strove  with  the  gunners  for  possession  of 
the  cannon.  But  no  human  flesh  could  stand  before 
such  fire  as  they  received.  Musketry  belched  in 
their  faces.  Cannon  hurled  grape  among  them  at 
point-blank  range.  Shells  rolled  by  hand  over  the 
parapet  exploded  among  them  as  they  struggled  in 
the  ditch.  And  behind  the  new  wall  of  earth  stood 
men  with  fixed  bayonets,  and  courage  grim  and 
desperate  as  their  own.  Broken  and  shattered,  the 
splendid  fragments  of  Longstreet's  fine  brigades 
fell  back,  hopelessly  repulsed. 

A  week  longer  Longstreet  sullenly  besieged  the 
city.     There    was    no    further  attack  —  that  would 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       329 

have  been  murder.  But  by  Tuesday  large  wagon 
trains  belonging  to  his  army  could  be  seen  moving 
eastward.  On  the  following  day  troops  were  seen 
taking  their  departure.  There  was  no  further  move 
apparent  on  Thursday,  but  there  was  a  general 
indication  of  discouragement.  On  Friday  night 
Longstreet  withdrew  his  army  from  about  the  city, 
and  the  siege  was  raised. 

With  great  joy  the  soldiers  and  citizens  hailed 
their  deliverance,  and  at  once  communications  were 
opened  with  Chattanooga.  Then  they  learned  for 
the  first  time,  how  a  few  days  previous  to  their  own 
fierce  fight  at  Fort  Sanders,  the  Union  forces  had 
scaled  the  palisades  of  Lookout  Mountain,  and  had 
swept  over  the  slopes  of  Missionary  Ridge,  driving 
Bragg's  men  before  them,  capturing  their  guns,  and 
turning  them  on  the  retreating  foe.  Thus  by  a 
double  victory  East  Tennessee  was  freed  from  the 
power  of  the  Confederate  government. 

A  few  days  later  the  news  of  these  victories  reached 
Roundstone  and  Estill,  bringing  joy  and  hope.  Joe 
Whitley  had  taken  long  to  recover  from  the  wound 
which  he  received  at  the  battle  of  Richmond.  He 
was  able  in  time  to  be  about,  and  to  ride  back  and 
forth  from  Estill  to  Roundstone ;  but  he  gained 
slowly,  and  after  a  year  of  waiting  he  had  reported 
at  Camp  Nelson  and  was  honorably  discharged  from 
the  service.  He  would  be  well  in  time,  the  surgeons 
said,  but  probably  never  very  rugged.  So  the  war 
was  over  for  Joe,  and  he  moved  back  and  forth 
between  his  two  homes,  the  old  home  on  Round- 
stone, and  the  home  that  was  to  be  his  in  Estill. 

"Joe,"  asked  Jennie,  "why  don't  you  jes'   marry 


J30  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

Becky  an'  be  done  with  it  ?  You  cain't  go  to  the 
war  agin." 

"We're  waitin'  for  Mr.  Murray  to  git  home  from 
Andersonville,"  said  Joe. 

But  the  months  passed  by,  and  Mr.  Murray  did 
not  return,  and  at  length  it  seemed  to  all  a  wise  thing 
for  the  young  couple  to  be  married. 

"  Becky,"  he  asked,  "what  preacher  would  ye  like 
to  have  marry  us  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  have  Mr.  Fee,"  said  Becky. 

"  You  mean  the  abolitionist  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  the  man  at  Berea.  He  used  to  come  out 
here  an'  preach,  an'  stopped  here  over  night  once  or 
twice,  and  pa  always  liked  him." 

"  I'd  like  myself  to  have  him.  But  the  blue 
grass  folks  druv  him  out,  didn't  they  ?  " 

"  He  is  back,"  said  Mrs.  Murray.  "  I  heerd 
last  week  about  him  bein'  back,  an'  preachin'  over 
on  Horse  Lick.  He's  moved  back  with  his  wife, 
an'  they're  at  Berea  now.  They  hain't  started  the 
school  agin,  but  he's  preachin'  thar." 

"  Less  go  over  thar  an'  git  married,  Becky." 

"  I'm  willin',"  said  she. 

A  few  days  afterward  Joe  and  Becky  rode  up 
Berea  ridge,  inquiring  for  Mr.  Fee.  He  was  at 
his  home,  and  had  gathered  there  the  children  of 
the  neighborhood,  and  in  lieu  of  any  other  school, 
was,  with  the  aid  of  his  wife,  instructing  them.  He 
was  a  small  man,  but  Joe  marked  him  as  one  who, 
if  a  soldier,  would  go  without  flinching  to  the  can- 
non's mouth.  He  had  in  him  that  dogged,  stubborn 
courage  that  makes  sometimes  the  fanatic,  and  again 
the    hero.      He    had    shared    the    early    efforts    of 


Fort  Sanders  and   Lookout   Mountain       331 

Cassius  M.  Clay,  and  was  still  at  his  work  in  spite 
of  war  and  mob.  Mrs.  Fee  came  with  him  to  the 
door.  She  was  a  cheery,  cordial  little  woman,  with 
a  womanly  insight  into  things,  and  knew  at  a  glance 
what  had  brought  the  young  people. 

"  You  must  get  down  and  stay  to  dinner,"  said 
she.  "  Let's  have  the  horses  put  out,  and  we  will 
get  acquainted."  Mr.  Fee  greeted  them  no  less 
heartily,  but  soon  withdrew  to  his  study  to  finish 
a  tract  against  the  evils  of  caste  distinction  ;  for, 
slavery  having  been  abolished,  he  was  seeking  more 
worlds  to  conquer. 

The  announcement  of  dinner  brought  him  from 
his  study,  and  during  the  meal  he  talked  pleasantly 
and  without  bitterness  of  his  experiences,  his  wife 
occasionally  adding  a  bright  touch  to  the  narrative. 

The  meal  finished,  Mr.  Fee  took  his  Bible  and 
read  the  chapter  concerning  Isaac  and  Rebecca,  and 
Mrs.  Fee  interrupted  the  reading  to  remark  that  Re- 
becca was  the  name  of  this  bride,  whom  she  believed 
to  be  worthy  of  her  name. 

It  was  a  simple  but  impressive  marriage  service. 
There  was  no  ring,  there  was  no  elaborate  ritual. 
The  pledges  which  they  made  were  few,  and  the 
fee  was  a  pittance.  But  two  young  hearts  went  out 
into  life  together  with  a  benediction  resting  on  them, 
and  an  ideal  before  them,  which  they  never  forgot. 

There  was  something  sacred  about  that  ride  home- 
ward. The  world  seemed  other  than  it  had  been, 
and  in  after  days  they  tried  to  make  the  rocks  and 
trees  appear  just  as  they  did  that  day,  but  with  only 
partial  success.  Life  was  transfigured  for  them,  and 
the   inspiration   of  that   day  never  wholly  forsook 


22'^  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

them.  Among  the  truly  happy  homes  in  Estill 
County  to  this  day,  after  years  of  life,  bringing  joy 
and  pain,  there  is  none  that  is  brighter  than  that  of 
Joseph  and  Rebecca  Whitley. 

"  JoCj  who  is  that  sittin'  on  the  porch  ?  "  asked 
Becky,  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  house. 

Joe  looked,  and  could  hardly  speak. 

"  It  looks  like  —  "  he  said. 

But  Becky  with  a  glad  little  cry  urged  her  horse 
ahead,  and  had  dismounted  in  a  trice,  and  when 
Joe  came  up  she  was  clasped  in  the  arms  of  her 
father. 

Mrs.  Murray  had  prepared  her  best  supper,  and 
they  were  sitting  happily  at  the  table  when  there 
was  a  shout  at  the  gate,  and  they  rushed  out  to 
welcome  Eph  Whitley. 

"  Home  on  a  thirty  days'  furlough !  "  he  explained. 
"  Captain  Wilson's  home,  too,  and  five  of  his  men. 
Gin'ral  Thomas  gin  orders  that  we  was  to  have  a 
month  off  for  bein'  the  fust  men  on  the  top  o' 
Lookout  Mountain."  ^ 

"  Did  ye  take  the  flag  ?  "  eagerly  asked  Joe, 

"  The  flag  !  I  reckon  we  did.  Hit  was  the  fust 
flag  on  the  summit,  an'  when  we  waved  it  from  the 
big  rock  on  top,  hit  was  cheered  by  a  hundred 
thousand  men  !  " 

Joe's  eyes  flashed  with  excitement,  and  then  grew 
dim.     "  I  wisht  Bill  could  a  ben  thar,"  he  said. 

1  "The  following  named  officers  are  granted  leave  of  absence  for  the  period  of 
time  set  opposite  their  respective  names  :  Capt.  John  Wilson,  Co.  C,  8th  Ken- 
tucky Vols.,  30  days,  for  gallant  and  heroic  conduct  on  the  morning  of  the  25th 
day  of  November,  1863,  at  the  battle  of  Chattanooga,  in  advancing  with  five 
enlisted  men  and  placing  the  Colors  of  the  8th  Kentucky  Vols.  Inft.  on  the  peak  of 
Lookout  Mountain,  in  the  face  of  the  enemy.    .   .   . 

"By  Command  of  Major  General  Thomas." 


Fort  Sanders  and    Lookout   Mountain        ^33 

There  are  huge  tablets  in  bronze  on  Lookout 
Point,  telling  the  valor  of  regiments  able  to  pay  for 
perpetuating  the  glory  of  their  deeds  on  that  spot. 
But  the  bravest  of  all  those  deeds  is  not  thus  re- 
corded. One  must  go  to  the  records  of  the  War 
Department,  or  into  the  mountains  of  Kentucky,  to 
learn  how  the  flag  that  first  looked  down  from 
Lookout  Point  upon  its  image  in  the  Tennessee, 
was  that  made  by  the  loyal  women  of  Estill  County, 
and  borne  aloft  by  Captain  John  Wilson  and  his 
brawny  men  of  the  8th  Kentucky.  It  came  home 
at  length  with  honor,  and  still  is  venerated  by  the 
women  who  made  it,  and  the  men  who  bravely  carried 
it,  in  the  battle  above  the  clouds. 


XXVI 11 

Mary  Gossett's   Baby 

ONE  day  in  the  autumn  of  1863,  a  woman, 
passing  along  Roundstone  Creek,  stopped 
at  the  Whitley  gate  and  asked  Cub  for 
a  drink.  Cub  was  afraid  of  her,  and  ran 
to  the  house  to  call  Jennie.  Jennie  came  to  the 
gate  with  Cub  clinging  to  her  skirts. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  "an'  rest  a  spell." 

"  I  don't  guess  I'll  stop,"  said  the  woman. 
"  I'm  in  a  hurry,  sorter." 

"  Come  in  while  I  git  ye  a  drink,  anyhow." 

"  I'll  put  myself  level  on  a  cheer  a  minit  on  the 
porch.      I'm  sorter  tard." 

"  I  should  think  ye  would  be.  Hit's  plumb 
hard  walkin'.      Did  ye  come  fur  ?  " 

"  A  right  smart  piece,"  said  the  visitor,  in  a  tone 
that  forbade  further  inquiry. 

Jennie  brought  the  water  and  gave  it  to  the 
woman,  who  was  evidently  greatly  fatigued. 

"You  best  stop  a  spell,"  said  Jennie.  "You're 
plumb  used  up.  We'll  have  some  dinner  right 
soon  now." 

"  Be  they  ary  sojer  about  ^  "  asked  the  woman, 
cautiously. 

"  Nary  one.  I  don't  reckon  they'd  hurt  ye, 
nohow." 

"  I   dunno.      I  dunno.      But  ef  they  hain't  none 

334 


Mary  Gossett's   Baby  235 

here,  they  won't  hurt  me.  I  reckon  I'll  stop,  fur 
I'm  mighty  nigh  tuckered." 

"  Take  off  yer  sunbonnet  an'  make  yerself  to 
home,"  said  Jennie.     "  I'll  hurry  up  the  dinner." 

"  I'll  keep  my  sunbonnet  on,  right  whar  hit  is," 
said  the  stranger,  a  little  resentfully,  "  an'  I  don'  keer 
fur  no  dinner.      I  jes'  wanter  rest." 

Elizabeth  returned  soon  afterward  from  the 
woods,  bringing  with  her  the  first  ripe  papaws, 
which  were  to  serve  as  a  relish  for  the  frugal  dinner. 
Jennie  was  working  in  the  kitchen,  preparing  a 
hoe  cake. 

"  Ma,  they's  a  sorter  quare  woman  settin'  in  the 
porch.      I  just  wist  you'd  go  an'  see  her." 

"  How  d'ye  mean  quare  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth. 

"  I  reckon  she's  all  right.  She  don't  act  like  no 
fool  nor  nothin',  but  she  don't  seem  to  be  rightly  at 
herself" 

"  I'll  go  see,"  said  Elizabeth,  and  went  to  greet 
the  stranger.  In  a  moment  there  were  such  cries 
from  the  porch  as  brought  Jennie  in  all  haste  from 
the  kitchen. 

"  Wy,  'Liz'beth  Casey!  For  the  land  o'  good- 
ness  ! 

"Well,  I  never!  Mary  Gossett!  How  under 
the  canopy  o'  heaven  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

"I  —  I  don'  har'ly  know  how  come  I  here," 
stammered  Mary.     "  Hit's  a  sorter  long  story," 

"  Don't  tell  us  nothin'  till  atter  dinner,"  said 
Jennie.     "You'll  feel  better  then." 

"  I  didn't  'low  to  eat,"  protested  Mary. 

"  Matter  o'  cose  you'll  eat," .  said  Jennie.  "  I 
got  the  hoe  cake  mighty  nigh  ready." 


2^6  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Wall,  ef  hit  don'  make  no  trouble,  mebby  I 
will.     I  do  feel  a  sort  of  gallness  in  my  stummick." 

She  washed  her  face  without  taking  off  her  sun- 
bonnet,  and  kept  it  on  at  the  table,  though  Elizabeth 
gently  suggested  its  removal. 

After  dinner,  which  she  ate  with  evident  relish, 
she  offered  to  help  about  the  work,  but  Elizabeth 
and  Jennie  both  objected. 

"  You  hain't  a-goin'  to  do  nothin'  o'  the  kind," 
said  Elizabeth.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  you're  a-goin' 
to  do.  You're  a-goin'  right  into  the  room  an'  lay 
down  on  the  bed  an'  take  a  nap  o'  sleep,  while 
Jennie  an'  me  does  the  dishes.  Then  when  you 
git  rested,  we'll  se'  down  an'  have  a  good  visit." 

Mary  was  too  weak  to  protest,  and  allowed  her- 
self to  be  led  to  the  bed,  where  she  lay  down,  still 
wearing  her  sunbonnet,  and  soon  was  fast  asleep. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Jennie  tip-toed  through 
the  room  on  some  errand,  and  the  sunbonnet  had 
fallen  back,  exposing  a  head  that  had  been  totally 
bald,  and  was  just  beginning  to  show  the  promise 
of  a  growth  of  hair. 

"  Ma,"  said  Jennie,  "  I  don't  reckon  we  best  to 
say  anything  more  about  her  a-takin'  off  her  sun- 
bonnet.     She  hain't  got  no  hair." 

"  She  useter  have,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  as  purty  a 
head  o'  hair  as  ever  I  seen.  Don't  ye  recollec' 
seein'  of  her  the  night  o'  the  Hansons'  frolic  ?  " 

"  I  remember  now,  but  I  wouldn't  a  knowed 
her.      Mebby  she's  had  some  fever  or  somethin'." 

"  I  reckon  so.  An'  she's  sorter  sensitive,  any- 
how.     But  she  ain't  crazy." 

Mary  slept  the  better  part  of  the  afternoon,  and 


Mary  Gossett's  Baby  337 

in  the  evening,  when  the  dishes  had  been  washed,  the) 
all  sat  about  the  fire  and  waited  for  her  to  tell  her  story. 

"You  don'  think  I'm  crazy,  do  you,  'Liz'beth  ?  " 

"  Not  a  mite,  Mary.  I  know  you're  all  right. 
But  you've  been  sick,  hain't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.      I've  had  measles,  'n'  had  'em  bad." 

"  That's  a  pity.  I  never  did  hear  o'  growed 
people  a-havin'  measles  till  this  war  come  on.  Then 
'pears  lack  they  hain't  nothin'  too  bad  to  have." 

"  That's  huccum  I  to  hev  'em,"  said  Mary.  "  I 
got  'em  in  the  army." 

"  Tell  us  all  about  it,"  said  Jennie. 

"  Hit  all  begun  when  Bill  jined  the  army,"  said 
Mary. 

"  The  Union  army  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth. 

"  No.     The  rebel  army." 

"You  don't  mean  it !      Bill  hain't  no  reb  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is.     He  hadter  be." 

"  Pore  feller !      I  know  he's  fur  the  Union." 

"  So  he  was.  But  hit  was  thisaway.  Less  see. 
When  did  you  leave  East  Tennessy  ?  " 

"  Hit  was  last  Apri/e  was  a  year  ago  —  Spring 
o'  eighteen  an'  sixty-two." 

"  Wall,  hit  was  jes'  atter  that.  You  know  Bill 
had  been  a-hidin'  out,  sorter  not  wantin'  to  leave 
me  —  cause  I  was  sorter  lookin'  to  be  sick,  an'  not 
well  nohow." 

"I  knowed  about  that,"  said  Elizabeth,  "an'  I 
'lowed  to  be  thar  an'  help  you  through,  ef  I  hadn't 
a  come  off  suddent." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mary.  "Wall,  the  baby  come  in 
July,  an'  I  didn't  har'ly  reckon  I'd  ever  git  up  agin. 
But  afore  that,  they  lef  word  for  Bill  that  ef  he'd 


jjS  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

jine  the  rebs  he  wouldn't  be  sent  off  south,  but  jes' 
enlisted  an'  sorter  kep'  about  nigh  home,  to  gyard 
Knoxville  ;  but  ef  he  didn't,  they  layed  out  to  hunt 
him  down  an'  send  him  to  Andersonville  or  Tusca- 
loosy,  one." 

"  That  was  mighty  hard,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"Wall,  Bill  had  kep  a-sayin'  ever  sence  he'd 
knowed  how  I  was,  says  he,  '  I'll  see  ye  through, 
Polly,'  says  he  —  he  allers  calls  me  Polly  —  'an' 
then  by  that  time  I  reckon  the  Union  sojers'U  be 
here,  and  mebby  I  won't  hatter  fight,  but  ef  I  do,' 
says  he,  *  thar's  whar  I'll  fight,'  says  he." 

"Wall?" 

"  Wall,  he  had  a  mighty  hard  time  on  it,  specially 
atter  the  Gov'nor  gin  out  that  proclamation  orderin' 
all  able-bodied  men  inter  the  rebel  army.  Bill  he 
wanted  to  go  north  then,  but  'peared  lack  I 
couldn't  let  him.  I  was  a-feeUn'  mighty  bad  every 
day,  an'  I  sorter  had  a  presentmaint  that  I  wasn't 
a-goin'  to  live  through  it,  an'  I    baiged  him   notter 

go  —  "  „      . 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  Jennie. 

"  Wall,  you  wouldn't  wonder  ef  you'd  a  felt  as  I 
felt.     Wall,  when  they  sent  that  word  to  Bill  —  " 

"  Who  sent  it  ?  " 

"  The  rebel  captain  at  Rutledge.  He  was  a-tryin' 
powerful  to  git  enlistmaints.  He  lef  word  at  the 
house  fur  me  ter  tell  Bill  he'd  hunt  him  down  an' 
sen'  him  south  ef  he  didn't  enlist,  but  ef  he  did  he 
wouldn't  Hkely  hatter  go  off  at  all. 

"  Wall,  Bill  come  in  next  even'  'bout  an  hour 
b'  sun,  an'  I  tole  him,  an'  Bill  he  warn't  a-goin'  ter 
do  it. 


Mary  Gossett's  Baby  339 

" '  I'll  go   north,'  says   he,    '  an  jine  the  Yanks.' 

"  But  I  jes'  held  to  him.  '  Oh,  Bill,'  says  I,  *  don' 
leave  me  now.  Go  in  an'  list.  What  odds  is  it, 
anyhow  ?  The  Yanks  don'  know  nothin'  about  us, 
or  ef  they  do,  they  don'  keer.  Jine  the  rebs,  Bill, 
an'  stay  till  I  die  ! ' 

" '  Ye  hain't  a-goin'  ter  die,  Polly,'  says  he  sorter 
tender,  an'  sorter  skeered,  too.  '  I'm  afeard  I  be,' 
says  I,  '  an'  who's  a-goin'  ter  keer  fur  the  baby,  the 
baby  that's  a-comin'  ? '  Bill  he  sot  a-thinkin',  an'  I 
was  a-cryin'.  Says  I,  '  Oh,  Bill,  do  this,  an'  I  won't 
never  ast  you  for  nothin'  agin  ! ' 

"  Bill  he  sorter  hesitated,  an'  jes'  then  they  come 
a  noise  o'  horses  a-gallopin'  down  the  road,  an'  the 
nex'  thing  they  was  three  rebel  cavalrymen  at  the 
fence.  Bill  he  started  to  run  out  the  back  door, 
an'  then  he  looked  back  at  me  an'  turned  on  his 
heel  right  in  the  middle  o'  the  floor,  an'  come  over 
an'  kissed  me  an'  says,  says  he,  '  Don't  cry,  Polly, 
I'll  do  it ! '  An'  he  went  out  o'  the  front  door  an' 
met  the  sojers  at  the  fence,  an'  when  I  come  out 
they  was  a  spreckle-faced  feller  settin'  on  one  horse, 
an'  he  had  a  sergeant's  braid  on  his  coat  sleeve,  an' 
he  was  a-holdin'  up  his  hand  fur  to  show  Bill  how, 
an'  Bill  was  a-holdin'  up  his  hand  an'  a-swearin'  to  be 
a  rebel.  That  night  was  the  fust  he'd  slep  in  the 
house  sence  Aprile  ;  an'  the  next  day  Bill  went  to 
Rutledge  an'  enlisted." 

"  I  cyan't  har'ly  blame  ye,  Mary,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Wall,  Bill  was  about  home  mighty  nigh  half  the 
time  then  till  the  Yanks  advanced  on  Cumberland 
Gap.  But  then  they  gethered  all  the  men  in  and 
tole  'em  to  be  ready  to  move.     An'  then  you  know 


340  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

the  Yanks  tuck  the  Gap  —  I  mean  the  fust  time, 
was  a  year  ago  —  an'  Bill  an'  his  company  was  jes' 
acrost  the  river  from  the  house,  an'  expectin'  fur  to 
hatter  go  furder  south  when  the  Yanks  moved  on 
Knoxville. 

"  Bill  was  with  me  when  the  baby  was  borned. 
You'd  orter  see  him,  'Liz'beth.  He's  the  cutest  little 
feller  !  Bill  named  him  Jefferson  Abraham  Gossett. 
He  said  the  Abraham  was  fur  him  an'  the  Jefferson 
fur  me ;  fur  he  uster  sorter  devil  me  about  me 
makin'  a  rebel  outen  him.  But  then,  as  I  was 
a-sayin',  when  they  moved  jes'  acrost  the  river  I 
agreed  with  Bill  to  signal  over  ef  the  Yanks  come. 
An'  shore  enough,  one  day  down  come  a  rig'maint 
full  hickory,  an'  stopped  an'  ast  me  fur  the  ford.  I 
tole  'em  the  way  to  the  upper  ford." 

"The  lower  one's  a  mile  nearder,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  I  know  it.  An'  then  I  run  out  an'  hung  up  a 
red  rag,  an'  then  I  heerd  two  guns  go  off  on  the 
other  side,  an'  I  know'd  that  Bill  had  seed  the  rag. 
That's  how  the  Yank's  didn't  git  Bill  an'  his 
company.  They  was  gone  back  into  the  hills  afore 
the  Yanks  got  thar. 

"  But  the  Yanks  come  back  next  day,  right  mad, 
an'  arrested  me  fur  signallin'  to  the  enemy.  They 
made  me  leave  my  baby  —  " 

Here  Mary  began  sobbing,  and  Elizabeth  and 
Jennie  cried  with  her. 

"  The  Yanks  hain't  much  better'n  the  rebs  ! " 
cried   Jennie. 

"  No,  Jennie,  the  men  hain't,  but  the  cause  is," 
said  Elizabeth.     "  What  else,  Mary  ?  " 

"  They  tuck  me  to  the  Gap,  an'  I  baiged  'em  to 


Mary  Gossett's   Baby  341 

let  me  go  back ;  but  they  said  it  was  me  that  kep' 
'em  from  baggin'  a  hull  company,  an'  it  was  a  crime. 
They  'peared  lack  they  didn't  wanter  try  me  thar, 
so  they  kep'  along  from  day  ter  day,  an'  when  they 
come  ter  thinkin'  o'  leavin'  the  Gap  in  the  fall,  then 
they  sent  me  ter  Camp  Nelson  on  the  Kaintuck," 

"  We  know  whar  it  is,"  said  Jennie. 

"  Wall,  thar  they  was  sorter  good  ter  me,  an'  I 
'lowed  I'd  git  to  go  back,  but  they  said  I'd  hatter 
wait  fur  orders  from  Washington,  an'  I  waited  month 
atter  month,  an'  while  I  was  waitin'  I  tuck  sick  with 
the  measles.  I  wasn't  real  strong,  nohow,  an'  I  had 
'em  hard.      My  hair  all  —  " 

She  stopped  and  pulled  her  sunbonnet  tighter  and 
began  again. 

"  I  got  most  well  an'  then  had  a  relapse,  and  was 
wuss'n  ever.  Wall,  when  I  got  well  the  las'  time 
they  didn't  gyard  me  nor  nothin'  but  jes'  lef  me 
runnin'  aroun'  the  hospital,  an'  I  kep'  a-thinkin' 
about  my  baby.  He's  more'n  a  year  old  now  ef 
he's  a-livin'.  I  reckon  they'd  all  sorter  forgot 
huccum  I  thar.  They  warn't  never  nothin'  said 
about  it,  but  they  didn't  no  word  come  to  let  me 
go,  an'  I  jes'  couldn't  stan'  hit  no  longer.  So  two 
weeks  ago  I  run  away." 

They  understood  it  all  then,  and  gave  Mary  all 
assurance  of  affectionate  sympathy.  They  looked 
at  Cub,  sleeping  now,  and  pitied  this  poor  mother. 
They  kept  her  with  them  two  days  —  she  would  stay 
no  longer  —  and  then  Elizabeth  took  her  behind  her 
on  a  horse — she  was  so  light  and  frail  as  hardly  to 
add  to  the  load  —  and  set  off  with  her  through  the 
woods  to  the  East  Tennessee  line.     It  was  a  two 


J42.  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

days'  ride  to  where  she  left  her,  and  the  waters  were 
flowing  to  the  south,  indicating  that  they  had  passed 
the  watershed  which  is  the  boundary  between  the 
States.  Then  EHzabeth  took  leave  of  her,  and  Mary 
resumed  her  lonely  journey. 

"  Keep  right  acrost  the  headwaters  o'  the  Clinch," 
said  Elizabeth,  "  an'  when  ye  strike  the  headwaters 
o'  the  Holston,  foUer  down.  I  don't  reckon  ye'U 
find  any  sojers  of  ary  kind.  Ef  ye  do  they  won't 
pester  ye.     An'  God  bless  ye  an'  the  baby." 


XXIX 

The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger 

SEVERAL  months  had  now  passed  since  Jack 
had  seen  Bessie  Granger.  He  thought  of 
her  often,  and  with  a  mixed  feehng  of  ad- 
miration and  of  wounded  self-esteem.  But 
more  and  more  it  came  to  be  apparent  that  their 
attraction  toward  each  other  had  been  the  result  of 
the  somewhat  unreal  conditions  in  which  they  had 
met,  and  not  because  of  common  interests  that  would 
have  been  likely  to  last. 

"  I  wonder  why  she  wanted  to  fall  in  love  with 
such  an  ignorant  fool  as  me,  anyhow  ? "  he  often 
said  to  himself.  But  as  Jack  was  young  and  hand- 
some, and  had  good  sense  and  some  rude  graces, 
and  especially  as  thousands  of  women  as  wise  as 
Bessie  Granger  are  constantly  falling  in  love  with 
men  less  worthy,  that  question  need  not  have  given 
him  great  concern. 

He  wished  he  was  well  out  of  it.  He  had  not 
said  when  last  he  saw  her  what  he  had  meant  to  say. 
The  approach  of  his  regiment,  the  outburst  of  her 
passion,  and  his  admiration  for  her  had  caused  him 
to  be  less  frank  than  he  had  meant  to  be.  He  was 
not  sure,  when  her  passion  had  spent  itself,  whether 
her  regard  for  him  would  reassert  itself.  She  had 
cast  him  off,  yet  had  somewhat  relented.  He 
had  shown  her  that  he  was  a  Union  soldier,  but  had 

343 


344  ^   Hero  in   Homespun 

told  her  nothing  of  Jennie.  He  was  not  sure  how 
far  he  had  seemed  to  commit  himself  to  Bessie, 
nor  whether  he  had  at  all  honorably  released  him- 
self. He  did  not  know  whether  he  was  bound  to 
her  or  not.  He  wished  for  nothing  so  much  as 
permission  to  march  through  Murfreesboro,  that  he 
might  meet  her  in  his  own  character,  with  oppor- 
tunity to  be  openly  honest  and  have  the  matter 
settled. 

For  as  Jack  returned  to  his  real  self  he  found, 
and  the  months  had  proved  it,  that  the  image  of  Bes- 
sie began  to  fade  out  of  his  heart,  and  there  appeared 
more  plainly  another  which  hers  had  never  wholly 
obliterated,  but  like  the  dissolving  view  of  a  stereop- 
ticon  had  all  the  while  been  dimly  on  the  screen  and 
now  grew  in  brightness. 

Whatever  his  thoughts  in  waking  hours,  it  was 
Jennie  that  he  saw  in  his  dreams.  Sometimes  he 
saw  her  face  as  he  had  seen  it  in  freshness  and 
beauty  at  the  Hansons'  party,  when  a  look  of  sin- 
cere admiration  for  him  had  transfigured  it.  Then 
he  saw  her  as  he  had  seen  her  at  the  spinning-wheel. 
Then  he  saw  her  as  he  had  never  seen  her  in  life, 
with  a  look  of  sad  reproach  because  of  Bessie 
Granger.  Then  her  face  appeared  as  he  had  seen 
it  in  the  candle-light  when  she  stood  in  the  door 
with  Cub,  on  the  night  of  her  father's  murder. 
And  Cub  !  Ah,  Cub  !  Dear  little  fellow,  how  he 
loved  him,  and  how  Jennie  loved  him  !  If  any- 
thing had  been  lacking  to  anchor  his  affection  to 
Jennie  Whitley,  and  make  It  certain  that  he  must 
give  up  all  thought  of  Bessie  Granger,  it  would  have 
been  found  in  the  mutual  interest  which  he  and  Jennie 


The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger  345 

had  in  Cub.  But  he  could  not  in  honor  offer  him- 
self to  Jennie  till  he  should  again  see  Bessie.  But 
what  if  she  still  loved  him?  He  felt  like  a  thief  as 
he  thought  of  it,  and  remembered  her  unquestioning 
trust  and  courage  on  the  night  of  their  ride  in  the 
canoe,  when  she  had  risked  her  life  for  him. 

Meantime,  fortunately,  he  had  duties  enough  to 
occupy  his  thought  a  good  share  of  the  time  ;  and 
no  man  could  say,  whatever  Jack  Casey's  deflection 
from  duty  on  the  one  occasion  of  his  meeting  with 
the  fascinating  Bessie,  that  as  a  soldier  he  was  ever 
otherwise  than  reliable,  constant,  and  brave. 

After  the  siege  of  Knoxville,  the  cavalry  and 
mounted  infantry  were  scattered  in  detachments 
through  the  mountains  to  protect  Knoxville  against 
further  assault,  and  the  people  against  marauding 
bands  of  guerillas.  Unfortunately,  Burnside  did 
not  follow  Longstreet,  or  wholly  drive  him  from 
the  State,  and  bodies  of  Confederates  remained  in  the 
eastern  counties,  greatly  to  the  distress  of  the  people. 

Hundreds  of  Tennesseeans  now  came  in  from 
their  places  of  hiding  to  enlist  in  the  Union  army ; 
and  these  were  organized,  as  well  as  possible,  into 
companies  and  regiments.  In  one  of  the  com- 
panies thus  formed,  when  the  list  of  officers  was 
read,  there  appeared  a  name  which  had  received  a 
commission  "  for  gallant  conduct  on  the  field  of 
battle,"  Lieutenant  Andrew  Jackson  Casey. 

Jack's  office  was  no  sinecure.  His  men  were  ig- 
norant and  undiscipHned.  They  were  well  mounted, 
and  most  of  them  lived  less  than  two  days'  ride 
away,  and  began  at  once  to  exercise  their  accustomed 
freedom  in  going  and  coming  at  will. 


346  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  That's  what  we  jined  the  army  for,"  said  one 
dehnquent.  "  Good  heavens  an'  arth,  leftenant, 
we  hain't  had  our  freedom  with  the  rebs  hyur.  I 
reckon  we  kin  have  it  now." 

Then  not  a  few  of  the  later  enlistments  were  of 
men  who  had  been  doing  more  or  less  fighting  on 
their  own  account,  and  had  come  to  enjoy  the 
methods  of  guerilla  warfare.  General  Carter  had 
not  a  little  trouble  because  of  the  depredations  of 
his  own  troops. 

"  What  have  you  got  in  your  blanket,  there  ? " 
asked  Jack  one  day  of  a  raw  recruit  whom  he  met 
coming  into  camp  with  his  blanket  bulging  sus- 
piciously  above  his  knapsack. 

The  soldier  sheepishly  attempted  to  evade  the 
question,  but  when  pressed,  unrolled  the  blanket 
and  displayed  a  beheaded  goose. 

"  Didn't  you  know  they  was  orders  agin  com- 
mittin'   depredations  ?  "  Jack  demanded. 

"I  hain't  committed  no  depredations,"  said  the 
man. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  You've  ben  stealin' 
poultry." 

"  No,  officer,  I  nain't.     I  done  hit  in  self-defence." 

"In  self-defence  ?  " 

"  Yessir.  I  was  comin'  to-wards  camp,  along 
whar  the  road  runs  beside  the  creek,  an'  I  seen  this 
goose  an'  two  others  a-comin'  down  to  the  warter. 
I  stopped  an'  looked,  an'  my  mouth  sorter  wartered 
for  'em,  but  thinks  I,  '  No,  sir,'  thinks  I,  *  I'll  obey 
orders.'  Wall,  I  went  ter  pass,  an'  blamed  ef  the 
hull  three  on  'em  didn't  stretch  out  thar  necks  an' 
hiss  at  me,  thisaway,  '  Sh-sh-sh-sh  !  '     'By  golly,' 


The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger  347 

says  I,  '  I  might  stand  that  ef  I  was  a  private  citi- 
zen, but  bein'  a  sqjer  of  this  great  an'  glorious 
nation,  hit  tain't  right.  Hit's  an  msult  ter  the 
Gov'maint.  As  long's  I  wears  the  blue,'  says  I, 
'  no  goose  shall  assault  me.'  I  jes'  hauled  out  my 
sabre  an'  made  a  clean  sweep  at  him  an'  cut  off  his 
head,  an'  the  rest  o'  the  inemy  retreated,  an'  I 
fetched  this  one  a  prisoner  inter  camp.  I'll  send 
ye  over  a  slice  on  her  to-night,  leftenant." 

There  was  one  comfort  in  it  all.  Whenever  there 
was  any  real  fighting  to  be  done,  the  men  could  be 
counted  on,  and  Jack  heartily  hoped  for  some. 
But  the  winter  passed,  and  the  summer  dragged 
itself  along,  and  there  was  only  fighting  with  strag- 
gling bushwhackers. 

One  day  there  was  brought  into  camp  a  man 
charged  with  being  a  rebel  spy,  and  the  men,  who 
had  a  zeal  not  always  according  to  knowledge,  were 
for  hanging  him  at  once. 

"  Let  him  have  a  fair  trial,"  said  Jack.  "  I'll 
hang  nobody.      I'll  send    him  to   Gen'ral    Carter." 

The  man  was  brought  to  him,  and  said, 

"  Hit's  a  lie,  officer,  I  ain't  no  rebel  spy." 

"  No,  I  reckon  not,"  said  Jack,  extending  his 
hand.  "  How  d'you  come  on,  Steph  Crowell  ? 
They  won't  hang  you  this  time,  I  reckon.  I'll  pay 
you  now  the  boot  on  that  horse." 

"  Ef  hit  tain't  Jack  Casey,  Solomon  was  a  sutler  ! 
Wall,  I  reckon  I  never  needed  a  friend  much  wuss. 
But  by  gum.  Jack,  I  wouldn't  a  knowed  you  in 
them  shoulder  straps.  Yer  face  looks  sorter  pecul- 
iar, as  the  ole  woman  says,  but  I  couldn't  somehow 
reconstruct  yer  name." 


348  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Steph.  You  ain't  a-goin'  to 
git  hurt  by  my  men,  now  I  can  tell  ye." 

"  Daggoned  ef  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  one  o'  yer 
men  myself,  ef  hit  warn't  fur  the  company  I'd 
hatter  keep.      I  never  seed  sech  a  tribe  in  my  life." 

"  They're  all  right,  Steph,  only  they  don't  know 
right  how  to  do  things.     Why  don't  you  enlist  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I've  had  a  heap  o'  reasons,  so  fur.  At 
fust  I  didn't  know  which  way  the  cat  would  jump. 
Then  I  sorter  got  to  helpin'  a  leetle  sendin'  informa- 
tion to  the  Union  army,  an'  I  sorter  thought  I  was 
a-doin'  about  as  much  good  an'  boardin'  to  hum.  I 
don't  like  the  beds  yer  give  fellers  to  sleep  in,  in 
the  army.  They  hain't  no  place  to  throw  yer  boots 
under  'em." 

This  was  Steph's  method  of  stating  his  objection 
to  sleeping  on  the  ground. 

"  Do  as  you  like.     They  shan't  hurt  you." 

"  Wall,  I've  found  that  hit's  mighty  uncomfort- 
able haltin'  between  two  opinions,  as  the  preacher 
says,  an'  the  next  ossifer  in  these  parts  may  not 
happen  to  owe  me  any  boot  on  a  hoss  trade.  I 
reckon  I'll  enlist." 

One  day,  late  in  the  summer,  a  paroled  Confeder- 
ate soldier  was  brought  in  by  Jack's  men,  who  had 
refused  to  honor  his  pass  till  it  had  been  approved 
by  Jack. 

"  Sam  Marshall !  "  cried  Jack,  "  you  here,  and 
paroled  ?  I  didn't  reckon  you'd  ever  give  a 
parole." 

"  Howdy,  Jack,"  said  Sam.  "  I'm  mighty  sorry 
to  trouble  you,  but  mebby  the  account  stands  a  little 
bit  to  my  credit  now  on  that  Murfreesboro  deal.      I 


The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger  349 

wouldn't  a  ben  paroled,  but  I  had  to  be  or  go  north 
to  prison,  one,  an'  I  don't  hanker  after  Camp  Mor- 
ton much  more  than  you  do  after  Andersonville. 
You  know  after  the  battle  o'  Stone  River  they  took 
me  from  the  field  for  hospital  service,  an'  left  me 
behind  with  the  wounded  till  the  Union  surgeons 
could  care  for  'em,  an'  sent  us  back  later  under  a 
flag  o'  truce.  At  Chattanoogy  they  done  the  same, 
only  the  Union  men  wouldn't  send  me  back.  They 
noticed  my  shoulder  straps,  an'  when  they  found  I'd 
done  the  same  thing  before,  an'  had  ben  a-fightin' 
sence,  they  said  I  wouldn't  hardly  rank  as  a  non- 
combatant.  So  they  was  goin'  to  send  me  to  prison  ; 
but  as  I  had  stayed  in  good  faith,  they  sorter  com- 
promised an'  said  ef  I'd  go  home  an'  not  bear  arms 
agin  till  the  close  o'  the  war,  they'd  let  me  go.  I 
reckoned  the  war  was  about  over,  anyhow,  when 
Bragg  was  defeated  there,  an'  it  warn't  much  to  prom- 
ise. So  I  promised,  an'  got  my  passes,  an'  went  to 
Murfreesboro  an'  visited  a  girl  I  knowed  there  an* 
had  promised  to  marry,  an'  I  got  married  an'  stayed 
there  a  little  spell,  an'  then  come  north  with  my 
wife,  thinkin'  I'd  git  back  home  an'  go  to  practisin* 
medicine  agin.  It's  ben  mighty  slow  travellin',  but 
I  got  this  far,  an'  I  don't  reckon  you'll  stop  me 
now." 

"  No,  your  pass  is  all  right.  And,  Sam,  ef  you 
don't  mind,  I  don't  see  no  use  now  of  you  an'  me  not 
bein'  friends.  I'm  mighty  thankful  to  you  fur  what 
you  done  fur  me  in  Murfreesboro.  I  don't  reckon 
no  harm  come  of  it." 

"  I'm  wiUin'  to  be  friends.  I'd  like  to  have  you 
meet  my  wife." 


350  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  I'd  like  to  meet  her.     Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Back  where  the  pickets  stopped  me." 

"  I'll  send  for  her." 

In  a  few  moments  she  arrived,  a  pretty  figure,  her 
face  covered  with  a  sunbonnet  after  the  manner  of 
the  land. 

"  My  wife.  Lieutenant  Casey.  Bessie,  this  offi- 
cer's an  old  friend  o'  mine." 

Jack  raised  his  cap  and  she  looked  down  at  him 
under  her  sunbonnet. 

"  I  think  we've  met  before,"  she  said. 

"  Sam,"  said  Jack,  "  I  wish  you  much  joy.  Miss 
Bessie,  you've  got  as  brave  a  man  as  they  is  in 
Tennessy.  Sam,  I  reckon  I  knowed  your  wife 
afore  you  did,  an'  ef  any  man  has  a  right  to  give 
his  blessin'  an'  to  wish  you  well,  it's  me,  I  reckon, 
an'  I  do  it  with  all  my  heart." 

The  story  was  told  in  a  word.  Sam  had  remained 
some  weeks  in  the  hospital  at  Murfreesboro,  and 
Bessie  had  resumed  the  work  at  which  she  had 
proved  so  efficient,  and  in  which  she  tried  to  for- 
get some  unhappy  memories.  And  thus  two  aching 
hearts  were  caught  on  the  rebound. 

Among  Jack's  recruits  were  several  escaped  Con- 
federate conscripts  who  gladly  sought  enlistment  in 
the  Union  army.  Some  of  them  were  soldiers  of  fort- 
une, who  fought  none  the  less  merrily  when,  as  now, 
they  did  it  with  necks  in  a  halter.  Others  were 
heartily  for  the  Union,  but  had  joined  the  Confed- 
erates under  extreme  pressure.  Of  these  was  his 
old  neighbor,  Bill  Gossett.  No  man  of  Jack's  com- 
mand was  more  faithful  or  courageous. 

On  this  day  he  was  on  sentry  duty,  and  noticed 


The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger  351 

as  he  met  the  sentinel  whose  beat  was  next  to  his, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  that  his  comrade  was 
tipsy  and  ugly.  Several  times  he  tried  to  pick  a 
quarrel  with  Bill,  but  Bill  turned  each  time  at  the 
end  of  his  beat  without  harsh  words.  At  the  other 
end  of  his  walk,  as  he  turned  back,  he  saw  the 
drunken  soldier  trying  to  stop  a  woman  who  was 
endeavoring  to  make  her  way  through  the  line. 

"  Halt ! "  he  yelled,  "  ye  cyan't  git  through 
without  a  pass  !  " 

"  I  don't  need  no  pass,"  said  she.  "  I'm  jes' 
a-goin'  to  my  baby." 

The  soldier  raised  his  gun. 

"  Halt,  or  I'll  shoot !  "  he  cried. 

The  woman  made  a  rush  and  went  by. 

"  Halt !  "  he  cried  again.  "  I  won't  tell  ye  no 
more  !     Halt,  or  I'll  kill  ye  !  " 

"  Don't  shoot !  "  cried  Bill.     "  Hold  on  thar  !  " 

He  ran  toward  his  companion  to  stop  him,  but 
seeing  that  he  was  bent  on  shooting,  and  would  fire 
before  he  could  reach  him,  stopped  and  levelled  his 
own  gun. 

"  Drop  yer  gun,  you  fool, "  he  cried,  "  or  yer 
a  dead  man  !  " 

The  sentinel  looked  toward  him  and  then  at  the 
fleeing  woman,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

There  were  two  reports  so  near  together  that  they 
sounded  like  one.  The  drunken  sentinel  fell,  shot 
through  the  heart,  and  the  woman  staggered  a  few 
steps  and  fell  in  the  road. 

With  a  cry  that  was  terrible  to  hear  Bill  rushed 
to  her  side.  He  pushed  back  the  sunbonnet  and 
kissed  the  face  beneath. 


3^2  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Polly  !     Oh,  God,  my  wife  !  " 

"  Help  !  "  cried  Bill.  "  Get  a  doctor  !  quick  !  My 
wife  is  shot ! "  But  there  was  no  camp  surgeon 
attached  to  Jack's  command.  A  half  dozen  men 
came  out  at  the  noise  of  the  firing,  and  looked  for 
a  moment  helplessly  at  each  other.  Then  one 
started  on  a  run  to  Jack's  headquarters. 

Lieutenant  Casey  was  standing  before  his  tent 
still  conversing  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marshall,  when 
a  soldier  ran  up  breathless. 

"  Leftenant,"  he  called,  "  they's  a  woman  shot 
down  here!"  There  was  a  man  shot,  also,  but  no 
one  thought  of  that  as  important  then. 

Jack  turned  to  Sam  Marshall. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  hatter  conscript  you  for  a  spell," 
he  said. 

"  Glad  to  help,"  said  Sam,  taking  his  pill-bags 
from  his  saddle. 

"  Let  me  go,  too,"  said  Bessie.  "  You  both  know 
I  can  help  at  such  times." 

The  three  hastened  to  the  line  together,  and  Jack 
gently  drew  Bill  away  while  the  doctor  and  his  wife 
bent  over  the  wounded  woman. 

"  Badly  wounded,"  said  he,  "but  she  may  recover." 

"She's  gotter  recover!"  cried  Bill.  "  Ef  they's 
a  God  in  heaven  that's  kind  and  just,  my  wife  hain't 
a-goin'  to  die." 

"  Don't  say  that.  Bill,"  said  Jack. 

The  doctor  and  his  wife  were  busy  a  long  time 
dressing  the  wound. 

"  She  mustn't  be  moved  for  a  few  days,"  said  he. 
"  Can  you  set  up  a  tent  just  inside  the  lines  an'  keep 
her  there  ?  " 


The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger  2 53 

A  tent  was  quickly  brought  and  set  up,  and  they 
moved  Mary  thither.  Bill  sat  by  the  cot.  At  last 
she  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Polly,"  said  he,  gently,  "  d'ye  know  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  Bill!"  she  cried  faintly;  "is  this  heaven.? 
Did  he  kill  me  ?     Whar's  the  baby  ?  " 

"  The  baby's  all  right,  Polly.  Yer  sister  Mar- 
thy's  got  him.  An'  you  hain't  killed,  an'  this  hain't 
heaven  ;  but  hit'll  be  mighty  like  it  when  you  git 
well !  " 

Then  the  doctor  came  in  and  said  that  Bill  must 
come  away  and  let  his  wife  rest. 

"Let  me  stay.  Doc,"  said  Bill.  "  I  won't  say  nary 
word." 

"  Come  away  for  an  hour.  You  can  go  back 
later.      My  wife  will  look  out  for  her  for  a  spell." 

So  Bill  came  away  with  great  reluctance. 

"  Doc,"  said  he,  "  hit's  a  God's  blessin'  you  was 
here." 

"I  hope  she'll  get  well,  Bill." 

"They  hain't  no  hope  about  it.  She  has  obleeged 
to  git  well.     I'm  bound  to  hev  her  git  well." 

"  Well,  Bill,  I  hope  so,  but  she's  a  mighty  sick 
woman.  I'm  glad  you've  got  confidence.  I'll  leave 
her  with  you  an'  Providence." 

"  Leave  her !  Lookye  here,  Sam  Marshall,  you 
ain't  a-goin'  ter  leave  her.  No  livin'  man  don't  know 
what  I've  suffered  the  las'  year.  An'  now  I  swar 
on  a  stack  o'  Bibles  a  mile  high  I  hain't  a-goin'  ter 
take  no  chances  on  Polly's  life.  God  hain't  brung  her 
back  ter  cheat  me  outen  her  now.  I'll  take  my  place 
by  the  roadside  where  she  fell,  an'  I  swar  I  won't  see 
ye  pass  that  spot  alive  till  my  wife's  outer  danger." 


354  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"  Stay,  Sam,"  said  Jack.  "  I'll  furnish  you  a  tent 
an'  put  up  yer  beastis,  an'  send  word  on  home  that 
you're  all  right.  Stay  an'  doctor  Bill's  wife  an'  some 
sick  fellers  that  I've  got  here  in  camp,  an'  I'll  send 
you  on  with  a  escort  when  you're  done." 

"  I'm  anxious  to  get  through  the  lines,"  said  Sam. 

"I'll  put  you  through,"  said  Jack.  "I'll  send 
you  on  when  you're  ready,  an'  while  you  stay  you 
shan't  be  under  no  restraint." 

"  Doc,"  said  Bill,  "yer  jes'  gotter  stay." 

"  I'll  talk  with  my  wife,"  said  Sam.  "  I  reckon  I 
can  stay  till  you  can  get  a  surgeon  from  Knoxville." 

"  I  can't  get  none,  I  reckon,"  said  Jack. 

When   Bessie  came  out  of  the    tent.   Jack   said, 

"  Mis'  Bessie,  I'm  a-goin'  to  conscript  you  an' 
your  man  for  a  spell  till  that  woman's  better  or 
wuss." 

"  I  reckon,"  she  replied,  "  if  Sam  stays  here  caring 
for  your  wounded  as  long  as  you  stayed  in  Murfrees- 
boro  caring  for  ours,  it  would  be  about  an  even 
trade,  wouldn't  it?" 

"  I  reckon  so,"  said  Jack,  "  an'  he  shall  have  as 
good  company  as  I  had  there." 

So  the  Marshalls  stayed  for  a  week  in  camp  wi':h 
Jack,  and  by  that  time  Mary  was  out  of  danger. 
They  rode  on  then  to  their  home,  and  Bill  was 
given  leave  of  absence  and  an  ambulance  to  convey 
Mary  back  to  the  little  cabin  that  had  been  their 
home,  and  was  to  be  again.  There  her  sister  came 
and  brought  the  baby,  and  there  daily  rode  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Marshall,  and  Mary  grew  stronger  from  visit 
to  visit. 

One  day  Jack  rode  out  to  see  them  and  his  old 


The  Heart  of  Bessie  Granger  ^^^ 

friends  about  home.  Bill  was  holding  the  baby  on 
his  knee,  and  sitting  beside  the  bed.  Mary  lay 
there,  pale  but  happy,  the  sunbonnet  replaced  by  a 
little  cap  that  Bessie  had  made,  beneath  which  was 
beginning  to  appear  a  flaxen  tress  that  reminded  Bill 
of  the  beautiful  hair  his  wife  had  worn. 

"Howdy,  Bill!  Howdy,  Polly!  You're  doin' 
finely.  At  this  rate  I'll  soon  call  Bill  back  to  service. 
That's  a  fine  boy  you  got  there.  Bill.  Hello,  young 
feller  !     What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  His  name  useter  be  Jefferson  Abraham,"  said 
Bill,  "  part  for  my  politics  an'  part  for  my  wife's. 
We  wasn't  sure  then  how  the  cat  would  jump,  an' 
we  was  sorter  like  the  feller  that  prayed,  good  Lord, 
good  devil.  But  we've  changed  now.  So  his  name 
is  Abraham  Lincoln  Jackson  Marshall  Gossett." 

"  Look  out  or  the  name  will  kill  him,"  said  Jack. 
"Who's  the  Jackson  for?     Me,  or  old  Hickory?  " 

"  Both,  sorter,"  said  Bill. 

"  He's  storyin',"  said  Mary.  "Jackson's  for  you." 

"And  the  Marshall's  for  me,"  said  Sam,  just 
then  entering  with  Bessie. 

"  Or  your  wife,  one,"  said  Jack. 

"  Well,  it  ain't  much  odds.  And  seeing  it  takes 
the  place  o'  Jeff  Davis,  it's  a  good  thing  to  let  the 
name  have  just  enough  rebel  to  save  it." 

"  Stop  your  nonsense,"  said  Bessie,  leaning  over 
and  kissing  the  boy.  "  The  rebel  part  is  the  only 
really  good  part  of  the  name.  That  is  —  Abraham 
Lincoln  is  all  right,  and  there  are  worse  Yankees 
than  Lieutenant  Jackson  Casey.  But  Marshall  is 
the  best  name  of  all  for  this  baby.  In  fact,  it's  the 
only  one  I  should  want  for  myself." 


XXX 

The  Thaw  in  Nashville 

NO  campaign  of  the  Civil  War  was  so  pict- 
uresque, and  none  has  been  so  widely 
sung,  as  Sherman's  march  to  the  sea. 
In  its  picturesqueness  lay  a  large  portion 
of  its  military  value.  When  Sherman  turned  his 
back  on  Hood's  army,  and  went  south  through 
unprotected  territory,  carrying  out  very  literally  his 
theory  that  "  War  is  hell,"  some  one  else  had  to 
fight  Hood.^  Thomas  was  at  Nashville,  and  his 
army,  comprised  of  the  ragged  ends  of  three  corps, 
was  scattered  from  the  Ohio  River  to  Alabama,  and 
from  Virginia  to  Missouri.  To  gather  these  to- 
gether, and  make  of  them  a  fighting  body,  was  no 
small  task.  Especially  was  this  true  of  the  cavalry, 
which  was  given  into  the  charge  of  General  Wilson. 
By  the  most  strenuous  exertion  the  men  were 
gathered  together  at  Nashville,  and  an  efibrt  was 
made  to  provide  them  with  horses,  for  many  of 
them  had  been  dismounted  in  their  scattered  posts, 
and  others  had  come  by  rail,  leaving  their  horses 
behind  them. 

One  day  in  November,  1864,  Lieutenant  Jack 
Casey  arrived  with  his  band  of  tatterdemalions  from 

^"Thomas  advised  [Sherman]  against  his  plan.  .  .  .  Grant  suggested  to 
him  to  resume  that  of  following  Hood.  .  .  .  Lincoln,  as  he  himself  said  a  little 
later,  'was  anxious,  if  not  fearful,'  but  did  not  interfere." 

—  Cox,  "March  to  the  Sea,"  p.  5. 

356 


The  Thaw  in  Nashville  357 

the  mountains.  To  make  the  command  effective, 
the  regiment,  which  was  not  full,  was  doubled  by  the 
addition  of  raw  men ;  and  Jack  was  given  com- 
mand of  a  company,  with  orders  to  impress  horses 
as  best  he  could,  and  mount  and  drill  his  men. 

Perhaps  there  was  no  part  of  the  war  which  the 
cavalry  enjoyed  more  thoroughly  than  that  op- 
portunity of  impressing  horses.  No  beast  with 
four  legs  was  safe  about  Nashville.  Farmers  reluc- 
tantly parted  with  the  animals  with  which  they  had 
hoped  to  plough  their  fields  the  coming  season,  and 
men  of  wealth  saw  the  dust  gather  on  their  empty 
carriages.  Governor  Andrew  Johnson's  carriage 
horses  were  taken,  and  the  street  railroads  were 
left  without  means  of  operating  their  cars. 

By  rare  good  fortune.  Jack  and  his  crowd  struck 
a  town  near  Nashville,  where  a  circus  was  in  prog- 
ress. There  were  a  few  broken  heads  among  the 
canvasmen  and  drivers,  but  no  blood  was  shed, 
and  in  the  end  Jack's  company  was  all  mounted. 
A  long-haired,  cadaverous  mountaineer  secured  the 
trick  mule,  and  rejoiced  in  the  sport  which  his 
manifDld  misfortunes  afforded  to  his  companions. 
Steph  Crowell  vv^as  at  his  best,  on  a  wonderfully 
spotted  animal,  but  mourned  after  the  first  rain  to 
find  that  many  of  the  spots  were  painted,  yet  found 
satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  the  horse  was  intelligent 
and  strong,  and  still  was  as  spotted  as  Joseph's  coat. 
Jack  secured  a  remount  in  a  thoroughbred  that 
could  leap  hurdles.  One  or  two  of  the  venture- 
some fellows  discussed  the  question  of  mounting 
the  elephant  and  camel,  and  all  made  the  most  of 
their  free  admission  to  the  show. 


358  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

Wilson  succeeded  in  mounting  a  considerable 
cavalry  force,  and  determined  to  use  that  arm  of 
the  service,  as  it  had  not  been  used  in  any  previous 
battle  of  importance,  in  the  main  attack,  and  not 
simply  in  skirmishing  and  flank  movements  in- 
tended to  cover  the  operations  of  infantry. 

On  the  30th  of  November  Hood  advanced  to 
Franklin,  which  two  years  before  had  been  captured 
by  Rosecrans  from  Bragg,  and  there  met  the  Union 
advance.  It  was  a  discouraging  thought  that  so 
long  after  what  had  been  thought  a  decisive  victory, 
the  same  ground  should  have  to  be  fought  over 
again.  As  yet,  Thomas  had  not  all  his  force  in 
hand,  and  had  no  intention  of  fighting,  but  hoped 
to  withdraw  his  army  to  Nashville.  Hood,  also, 
intended  to  defer  battle  till  next  day,  but  his  officers 
were  smarting  under  his  rebuke  for  allowing  a 
Union  brigade  to  escape  the  night  before,  and  were 
eager  to  prove  their  courage.  They  proved  it,  poor 
fellows,  for  few  battles  proved  so  fatal  to  officers  as 
Franklin.  Twelve  Confederate  generals  and  many 
colonels  were  killed  or  wounded  there. 

At  four  o'clock,  most  unexpectedly,  the  battle  be- 
gan. The  line  of  battle  was  short,  and  the  heavy 
fighting  was  confined  within  a  small  area,  in  the  centre 
of  which  was  a  house  occupied  by  a  family  named 
Carter.  The  family  consisted  of  an  aged  man  and 
his  daughters,  with  a  son  who  was  a  paroled  Con- 
federate soldier.  There  was  another  son,  a  Confed- 
erate officer  somewhere  in  the  army,  —  they  knew 
not  where.  They  were  assured  that  there  would  be 
no  battle  that  day,  when  suddenly  the  firing  began, 
and  they  were  imprisoned  in  the  house  in  the  very 


The  Thaw  in  Nashville  359 

focus  of  the  fight.  After  an  hour  of  fighting  the 
cloud  of  sulphurous  smoke  obscured  the  light  so  as 
to  seem  like  an  eclipse.  For  some  time  still  the  firing 
continued,  and  then,  as  at  a  signal,  both  sides  ceased. 
The  silence  that  ensued  was  uncanny  and  fear-op- 
pressing. In  that  silence,  because  of  the  unnatural 
dark,  the  cries  of  the  wounded  that  lay  between  the 
armies  were  terrible  to  hear. 

The  battle  was  soon  renewed.  The  first  advan- 
tage had  been  on  the  side  of  the  Confederates,  and 
in  the  uncertain  light  they  supposed  it  greater  than 
it  really  was.  They  rushed  forward  again  and  again. 
They  continued  the  fight  long  after  dark.  On 
both  sides  men  fired  at  the  flash  of  each  other's 
guns,  yet  sometimes  lay  down  and  were  safe  within 
reach  of  each  other's  bayonets.  Two  Confederate 
soldiers  made  a  safe  and  cosy  nest  for  themselves 
in  the  asparagus  bed  beside  the  Carter  smoke  house 
where  they  could  have  shaken  hands  with  the 
Union  soldiers  in  the  trench  at  the  end  of  it. 
When  morning  came,  after  a  night  of  dread  and 
constant  danger,  the  Carter  girls  found  their  brother, 
the  young  officer,  in  the  trench  behind  the  house, 
mortally  wounded.  There  he  had  lain  helpless 
through  the  night,  almost  at  the  door  of  the  home 
where  he  was  born. 

The  Union  army  fell  back  under  cover  of  the 
night,  and  went  into  its  intrenchments  at  Nashville, 
and  Hood  moved  north  and  beset  the  city,  making 
his  siegeworks  strong.  Thomas  continued  strength- 
ening his  position ;  but  as  Thomas  already  had 
intrenchments,  it  seemed  that  all  the  advantage  of 
delay  was   on  the   side   of  Hood.     General   Grant 


360  A   Hero  in   Homespun 

began  telegraphing  Thomas  to  move  out  and  fight 
Hood,  but  Thomas  waited  to  increase  his  force  of 
mounted  men.  After  a  week's  delay,  the  weather 
suddenly  turned  cold  ;  rain  fell,  freezing  as  it  struck 
the  earth,  and  the  ground  was  a  sheet  of  ice. 
Thomas  was  still  more  reluctant  to  move  ;  and  to 
Grant's  repeated  orders  he  replied  that  he  would 
move  when  conditions  permitted. 

After  nearly  two  weeks  of  delay.  General  Thomas 
called  a  meeting  of  his  generals,  and  asked  their 
advice  about  attacking  the  Confederates.  He  laid 
before  them  the  urgent  despatches  of  the  Secretary 
of  War  and  telegrams  received  daily,  and  some- 
times twice  a  day,  from  General  Grant,  at  first  advis- 
ing, and  later  commanding,  him  to  move,  and  finally 
threatening  him  with  removal  from  his  position  if 
he  did  not  start  at  once. 

"What  is  your  opinion,  gentlemen?  "  asked  Gen- 
eral Thomas. 

In  such  councils  the  lowest  officer  usually  speaks 
first.  But  General  Schofield,  who  stood  next  to 
Thomas,  and  would  naturally  have  succeeded  him 
in  case  of  Thomas'  removal,  first  spoke  his  own  con- 
viction, that  General  Thomas  was  right.  This  chival- 
rous act  of  Schofield  impressed  the  whole  council. 

"  What  do  you  think.  General  Wilson  ?  Can 
your  cavalry  stand  on  this  ice  ?  " 

"  General  Thomas,"  said  Wilson,  "  I  would  not 
start  till  there  is  a  thaw,  no  matter  who  commands  it. 
If  I  had  my  men  dismounted  behind  Hood's  present 
intrenchments,  and  had  to  repel  an  advance  over 
this  ice,  I  would  guarantee  to  do  it  if  my  men  were 
armed  with  nothing  more  than  a  basket  of  bricks." 


The  Thaw  in   Nashville  361 

"Judging  from  the  way  they  got  their  horses,  I 
think  that  your  men  might  be  trusted  to  provide 
themselves  with  bricks,"  said  Thomas. 

"  Or  make  them,  with  or  without  straw,"  said 
General  McArthur. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Thomas,  "  I  am  willing  to 
move  when  we  can  move  and  win.  I  am  willing  to 
resign  my  command,  if  that  is  desired.  But  so  long 
as  I  am  in  command,  I  cannot  sacrifice  brave  lives 
without  prospect  of  success.  I  am  weary  Vv'aiting  for 
a  thaw,  but  it  cannot  long  delay  in  this  climate.  As 
soon  as  that  comes,  we  will  move  with  vigor,  and 
when  we  move,  we  will  win."  So  Thomas  waited 
for  five  days  more.  As  at  Chickamauga  he  tele- 
graphed "  I  will  stay  till  I  starve,"  and  won  the 
title  "  The  Rock  of  Chickamauga,"  so  now  under  cir- 
cumstances not  less  trying  he  proved  immovable. 

General  Grant  meant  what  he  said,  and  followed 
his  last  telegram  with  orders  to  General  Logan  to 
hasten  to  Nashville  and  succeed  Thomas.  Then, 
becoming  still  more  nervous,  he  started  to  command 
the  troops  at  Nashville  in  person.  Logan  had  got 
as  far  as  Louisville,  and  Grant  as  far  as  Washington, 
when  there  came  a  thaw. 

In  a  dense  fog,  early  in  the  morning  of  the  15th 
of  December,  the  cavalry  under  General  Wilson 
moved  through  Nashville,  and  around  to  the  right, 
to  fall  upon  the  Confederate  left,  while  the  infantry 
advanced  in  a  smaller  and  parallel  arc.  When  the 
fog  lifted  at  nine  o'clock,  it  was  an  inspiring  sight 
that  the  watchers  saw  from  Nashville.  The  cavalry 
had  made  their  wide  detour,  and  were  tethering  their 
horses  to  charge  on  foot ;  and  the  rush  was  majestic 


362  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

and  irresistible.  The  rebels  had  been  saying  that 
the  Yankees  had  brought  their  weather  with  them. 
This  day  burst  forth  from  the  fog  into  sudden  sun- 
shine, and  there  was  fighting  hot  enough  for  the 
warmest-blooded  Southerner. 

By  noon  the  infantry  had  driven  the  Confederate 
right  from  its  position,  and  the  cavalry  had  over- 
lapped it,  using  their  horses  for  advances  and  fight- 
ing on  foot. 

At  one  time  when  the  cavalry  were  fighting  at  a 
distance  from  their  horses,  a  sudden  dash  of  the 
Confederates  upon  their  exposed  front  drove  them 
back  in  some  confusion.  It  was  only  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  it  nearly  resulted  in  the  capture  of 
Captain  Casey.  Jack  had  gotten  deeply  into  mud, 
and  in  the  retreat  was  almost  overtaken  by  the 
enemy  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  climbing  a  stone  wall. 
At  that  moment  Bill  Gossett  looking  back  saw  him, 
and  with  Steph  Crowell  rushed  to  his  relief  In  a 
deadly  fire  they  ran,  pulled  him  over  the  wall,  and 
helping  him  by  both  arms,  ran  with  him  back  to 
their  companions  and  horses.  Then  they  mounted 
and  charged  again.  While  the  cavalry  moved,  the 
infantry  supported  every  advance,  and  the  Confeder- 
ates were  mown  back  as  by  the  swing  of  a  mighty 
scythe. 

Nothing  could  have  been  finer  than  the  deliberate 
but  resistless  dash  of  the  cavalry,  unless  it  was  the 
splendid  charge  of  Post's  brigade  up  the  slope  of 
Montgomery  Hill,  with  its  colonel  at  its  head. 
Montgomery  Hill  was  to  Nashville  what  Round  Top 
was  to  Gettysburg,  and  the  capture  of  that  eminence 
completed  the  movement  on  the  right. 


The  Thaw  in   Nashville  ^^3 

Then  came  the  dash  for  the  centre,  which  was 
undertaken  by  General  Wood,  who  protested  that 
it  was  suicide,  but  who  went  in  as  though  success 
were  certain,  as  indeed  it  proved.  Perhaps  in  no 
great  battle  of  the  war,  except  Missionary  Ridge,  was 
the  whole  panorama  of  the  fight  in  so  full  view  ;  and 
Thomas  watched  from  the  city  the  progress  of  every 
movement.  The  fight  was  stubborn  everywhere  ; 
but  the  result  was  the  same  on  all  sides.  The  ex- 
ample of  the  cavalry  in  the  early  morning  on  the 
right  became  the  inspiration  of  each  succeeding 
movement,  and  when  night  set  in  the  Confederates 
had  been  driven  two  miles.  But  they  threw  up  in- 
trenchments  during  the  night,  and  found  the  position 
into  which  they  had  been  driven,  though  much  less 
favorable  for  offensive  action,  even  more  advan- 
tageous for  defence  than  that  which  they  had  aban- 
doned.     So  both  sides  bivouacked  on  the  field. 

The  morning  of  the  second  day  saw  little  fighting, 
as  both  sides  were  moving  for  positions  and  erecting 
temporary  fortifications.  The  rebels  had  made  good 
use  of  the  night  in  rearing  or  occupying  stone 
walls,  with  head-logs  above,  and  the  hills  which  they 
had  taken  were  steep  and  easily  defensible.  The 
gallant  Colonel  Post  opened  the  battle  with  another 
splendid  charge,  on  Overton's  Hill,  such  as  the  day 
before  had  resulted  in  the  capture  of  Montgomery 
Hill,  the  cavalry  still  swinging  outward  from  the 
right.  He  led  his  three  regiments,  one  of  which 
was  a  new  regiment  of  brave  colored  men,  to  the 
very  breastworks,  and  the  men  fought  with  great 
courage;  but  at  the  critical  moment  Post  fell,  the 
colored  regiment  broke  under  the  terrible  fire,  and 


364  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

the  movement  failed  with  a  loss  of  five  hundred 
men. 

The  thaw  had  come,  indeed,  and  now  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  move  across  the  ploughed  fields  that  were 
sticky  with  mud.  But  the  cavalry  wheeled  still 
further,  and  secured  in  succession  all  save  one  of 
the  pikes  by  which  Hood  had  approached  the  city, 
and  by  which  he  must  retreat.  Then,  leaving  their 
horses,  with  incredible  toil  they  dragged  two  capt- 
ured guns  through  the  mud  and  up  a  hill  to  the 
rear  of  the  Confederate  position.  Just  as  this  was 
accomplished  in  the  rear.  General  McArthur  in  the 
front  sent  word  that,  unless  forbidden,  he  proposed 
to  order  a  charge  up  Overton's  Hill,  now  the  key 
to  the  Confederate  position.  It  seemed  a  great  risk, 
but  consent  was  not  withheld.  McArthur  selected 
McMillen's  brigade,  which  had  seen  service  in  many 
campaigns,  and  knew  its  leaders  and  its  duty.  With 
fixed  bayonets,  and  without  shot  or  cheer,  they 
emerged  from  their  intrenchments  and  went  up  the 
slope.  Unlike  new  men,  they  scattered  as  they 
ascended,  and  their  loss,  though  heavy,  was  greatly 
lessened,  and  no  loss  dismayed  them.  Jack's  com- 
pany was  just  panting  up  the  hill  behind,  and  the 
guns  were  slowly  coming  up  through  the  mud,  when 
he  discovered  McMillen's  infantry  silently  but  re- 
sistlessly  ascending  Overton's  Hill. 

"  Hurry  up  them  guns  !  "  he  shouted.  Another 
pull  at  the  ropes  by  panting  men  and  the  guns  were 
brought  to  the  summit,  their  wheels  solid  with  mud. 
A  moment,  and  they  began  to  belch  their  fire  and 
pour  their  shot  into  the  midst  of  the  Confederates. 
The  rebels  looked  from  the  charge  in  front,  to  find 


The  Thaw  in  Nashville  365 

themselves  assailed  in  the  rear.  With  despairing 
energy  they  turned  their  faces  again  to  the  slope, 
up  which  with  majestic  sweep  the  Union  troops 
were  moving,  and  hopelessly  emptied  their  guns 
among  them.  It  was  useless.  The  wavy,  scattered 
line  seemed  proof  against  their  balls.  There  was  a 
struggle  at  the  breastwork,  a  hand-to-hand  grapple, 
and  then  the  Confederate  flag  came  down,  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  went  up,  a  mighty  cheer  arose, 
and  the  Confederates  broke  and  fled. 

General  Wilson  gathered  his  cavalry  again  and 
serft  them  in  pursuit.  Long  after  night  had  fallen 
they  followed  the  enemy  down  the  pike,  until  it 
grew  too  dark  to  discern  friend  from  foe,  and  the 
pursuers  mingled  with  the  pursued. 

Riding  through  the  woods.  Jack  got  separated 
from  his  men,  and  in  the  darkness  rode  sud- 
denly against  another  mounted  man.  Their  horses 
stopped,  and  the  men's  knees  touched.  Each  raised 
his  sabre  ready  for  a  blow. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  Jack.  "  Let's  not  strike  till 
we  both  know  who  we  be.      Be  you  Yank  or  reb  ^  " 

"  Reb,"  said  the  other.      "  Who  be  you  ?  " 

"Yank,"  said  Jack. 

They  paused,  and  each  one's  pause  might  have 
been  fatal;  but  for  some  reason,  neither  could  tell 
why,  they  did  not  strike. 

"  Look  here,  Yank,"  said  the  rebel,  "  I  reckon 
ef  we  should  fight  here  in  the  dark  the  chances 
would  be  about  even,  don't  you?" 

"  I  reckon  they  would,"  said  Jack. 

"  Like's  not  we'd  both  git  killed,"  he  continued. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder." 


^66  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

"Yank,  I'll  resk  my  sheer  ef  you  say  so,  but  this 
sorter  killin'  don't  seem  ter  me  jes'  like  fightin'  In 
the  field.  I  got  a  wife  an'  three  babies  to  hum,  an' 
I  don't  see  no  need  o'  goin'  to  kingdom  come  an' 
leavin'  them  to  some  other  man  to  support,  an'  I'm 
afeard  you  wouldn't  do  it  ef  you  was  to  kill  me. 
Now,  when  I  swap,  and  can't  quite  come  ter  terms 
on  a  bargain,  I  think  hit's  a  mighty  mean  man  that 
won't  split  the  difference.  What  d'ye  say,  Yank  ? 
Shall  we  fight,  or  split  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Less  split  the  difference,"  said  Jack.  And  they 
both  rode  away. 

Thus  was  won  the  important  victory  of  Nashville, 
that  saved  the  North  from  its  last  threatened  inva- 
sion. It  was  another  Gettysburg.  While  Sherman 
and  his  host  were  marching  through  Georgia  with 
terror  in  their  front  and  ashes  in  their  rear,  making 
a  desert  sixty  miles  in  width  from  Atlanta  to  the 
sea.  Hood's  army  was  shattered  in  his  rear.  Sher- 
man's success  on  that  march,  though  multiplied  by 
a  score,  would  have  been  more  than  counterbalanced 
by  a  failure  to  conquer  Hood.  It  would  have  been 
as  pleasant  for  Hood  to  march  from  Cincinnati  to 
the  lakes,  as  for  Sherman  to  march  from  Atlanta  to 
the  sea,  and  the  march  would  have  been  quite  as 
picturesque,  and  the  cities  quite  as  combustible. 

General  Logan  heard  the  news  at  Louisville,  and 
buttoned  in  his  pocket  the  orders  to  relieve  Thomas. 
General  Grant  heard  the  news  in  Washington,  and 
went  back  to  his  fighting  on  the  line  that  had  taken 
all  summer,  and  was  to  take  the  winter.  And  the 
wreck  of  Hood's  splendid  army  drifted  south,  and 
came  north  again  no  more. 


XXXI 

How  Jack   Met  the  Enemy 

IMMEDIATELY  after  the  battle  of  Nashville 
Jack's  command  was  hurried  back  into  East 
Tennessee,  and  his  company  was  attached  to  one 
of  the  regiments  of  the  "  Governor's  Guard," 
then  under  command  of  General  Alvan  C.  Gillem. 
This  guard  was  not  responsible  to  the  military  au- 
thorities, but  received  its  orders  from  self-willed 
Andrew  Johnson,  who,  besides  being  Military  Gov- 
ernor, held  also  the  rank  of  General.  His  troops 
had  just  suffered  a  severe  defeat  at  the  hands  of 
General  Breckinridge,  who  made  a  raid  through  the 
mountains  while  Thomas  was  fighting  at  Franklin, 
and  defeated  Gillem.  Thomas  believed  the  defeat 
to  have  been  caused  by  Johnson's  assumption  of 
authority  over  this  brigade,  and  the  time  was  gladly 
looked  forward  to  when  Johnson,  having  been  elected 
Vice  President,  would  be  in  Washington,  and  the 
military  affairs  of  the  State  could  be  managed  with- 
out so  much  interference.  General  Gillem  proved 
an  able  officer,  and  the  ability  which  he  displayed  after 
the  Rebellion,  in  fighting  the  desperate  Indian  mur- 
derer, "  Captain  Jack,"  and  his  band  of  bloodthirsty 
Modocs  in  the  lava  beds  of  California,  he  acquired 
in  part  in  East  Tennessee  ;  for  a  part  of  the  force 
which  he  there  opposed  consisted  of  North  Carolina 
Indians  employed  by  the  Confederate  government. 

367 


368  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

Before  Jack  arrived,  Gillem  had  retrieved  himself 
by  a  raid  upon  the  salt  works  in  western  Virginia, 
had  broken  the  kettles,  filled  the  drilled  wells,  one 
Jiundred  and  sixty  feet  deep,  with  twelve-pound 
shells  and  railroad  iron,  and  so  devastated  the 
country  as  to  make  himself  secure  against  further 
raids  from  that  quarter. 

Since  the  battle  of  Nashville  Jack  had  gone  by 
his  brevet  rank  of  captain.  He  enjoyed  leadership, 
and  his  men  respected  him.  But  his  heart  ached 
when  he  reflected  to  what  the  war  had  degenerated. 
The  marks  of  its  wicked  work  were  plain  in  the  lives 
of  many  of  his  men.  There  was  much  necessity  of 
sending  out  small  bands  to  kill  or  capture  desperate 
men,  and  for  this  work  men  were  often  selected  who 
knew  the  ones  they  pursued.  Thus  it  sometimes 
happened  that  soldiers  would  lie  concealed  near  the 
homes  of  their  old  neighbors  who  had  become  gueril- 
las, and  shoot  them  on  their  own  door-steps  as  they 
attempted  to  enter  their  homes.  It  was  war,  no 
doubt,  but  to  Jack  it  seemed  like  murder.  Already 
there  was  apparent  the  spirit  which  continues  to  this 
day  in  some  mountain  counties,  and  manifests  itself 
in  the  deadly  feuds  that  now  and  again  break  forth. 
All  these,  and  many  other  evils,  did  the  war 
bequeath  to  these  communities  ;  for  while  the  war 
settled  one  problem,  it  precipitated  twenty. 

Jack  had  not  seen  his  mother  or  Jennie  or  Cub 
for  many  months  ;  but  he  saw  his  old  home  now 
and  then,  and  several  times  called  on  the  Hansons 
and  the  Marshalls.  He  had  a  frank  talk  with  Bes- 
sie and  told  her  what  she  did  not  already  know  of 
his  story,  including  his  love  for  Jennie.      Bessie  ex- 


How  Jack   Met  the  Enemy  369 

pressed  great  interest  in  Jack's  sweetheart,  of  whom 
she  had  already  heard  from  Sam,  and  was  sure  that 
she  and  Jennie  would  be  good  friends.  Jack  hoped 
so,  but  he  had  a  feeling  of  discomfort  which  he  was 
ashamed  to  confess.  He  wondered  how  Jennie 
would  appear  in  the  eyes  of  Bessie,  nay,  though 
this  he  never  admitted  even  to  himself,  he  wondered 
how  she  would  appear  to  him  after  having  known 
Bessie.  He  could  not  bear  that  Jennie  should 
suffer  by  comparison,  or  seem  uncouth  in  Bessie's 
sight  or  presence. 

One  day  while  Jack  was  pursuing  a  small  band 
of  guerillas  beyond  Bull's  Gap,  at  the  head  of  a 
score  of  men,  they  suddenly  found  themselves  sur- 
rounded by  a  superior  force  of  Confederate  cavalry 
belonging  to  the  force  of  General  Martin,  then  sta- 
tioned near  Asheville,  in  the  mountains  of  North 
Carolina.  There  was  a  short,  sharp  fight.  Two 
of  Jack's  men  were  killed  and  five  were  wounded. 
Jack  was  knocked  from  his  horse  by  a  partly  par- 
ried sabre-stroke,  and  when  he  recovered  conscious- 
ness, five  minutes  later,  half  his  command  were  pris- 
oners with  himself  and  the  rest  had  fled. 

Jack's  wound  did  not  prove  serious,  though  the 
blood  flowed  freely  and  his  head  ached  severely. 
He  was  soon  mounted  again  and  disarmed.  Two 
of  his  most  badly  wounded  men  were  left  at  the 
nearest  house,  and  the  remaining  seven,  of  whom 
three  were  slightly  wounded,  were  placed  on  their 
horses  and  started  on. 

It  was  hazardous,  indeed,  for  so  small  a  body  of 
men  to  be  on  a  raid  so  far  from  home,  but  both 
armies  had  come  to  take  desperate  chances,  which 


37©  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

the  roughness  of  the  country  favored.  Martin's 
army  by  this  time  had  in  it  many  companies  which 
rode  afar  and  did  a  considerable  amount  of  their 
fighting  half  on  their  own  account.  They  were  in 
no  haste  to  turn  back  till  toward  night,  but  bore 
northward  and  toward  the  Holston.  Jack  knew 
the  way  well.  A  few  miles  further,  and  they  would 
pass  Sam  Marshall's.  Six  miles  across  the  river, 
still  beyond,  was  his  own  home.  It  was  a  bitter 
thought  that  he  would  be  marched,  a  prisoner,  past 
the  houses  of  his  friends,  and  perhaps  past  the  door 
of  the  house  where  he  had  been  born,  but  the 
thought  had  in  it  a  gleam  of  hope. 

"  Captain,"  he  said  to  the  commander  of  the 
rebels,  as  they  rode  on,  "  the  second  house  on 
the  left  they's  a  doctor  that's  treated  some  o'  my 
men.  He  uster  be  a  Confederate  surgeon.  I 
wisht  you'd  stop  there  a  minute  and  let  him  tie  up 
my  head.  It  aches  fit  to  kill.  Some  o'  these  other 
men,  too,  needs  lookin'  after  a  little." 

The  suggestion  was  accepted  by  the  captain,  who 
had  two  wounded  men  of  his  own  ;  so  they  stopped 
at  the  door  of  Dr.  Marshall. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Jack,  hastening  to  forestall  any 
sign  of  more  intimate  relation  between  them,  "  I 
reckon  you  remember  me.  You've  doctored  some 
o'  my  men." 

Sam  started  so  that  Jack  was  alarmed,  but  recov- 
ering himself  said,  "'Pears  like  I  remember  you. 
Captain  —  ? " 

"Casey,"  said  Jack.  "I'm  wounded,  and  so's 
some  o'  these  other  men,  and  we'd  sorter  like  to  have 
you  patch  us  up  so's  we  can  ride  on." 


How  Jack  Met  the  Enemy  371 

"An'  don't  ye  be  long  about  it,  nuther,"  said  the 
Confederate  captain.  "  Hit'll  be  night  right  soon 
now." 

"  Fetch  your  wounded  men  in,"  said  Sam.  "  I'll 
do  the  best  I  can  for  'em." 

Sam  stepped  into  the  other  room  to  get  his  in- 
struments. Calling  Bessie  aside  he  whispered  hastily, 
"Jack  Casey's  a  prisoner.  They'll  ride  across  an* 
back  towards  V'ginny.  I'll  keep  'em  here  as  long's 
I  can.  You  hurry  ahead  an'  warn  his  friends  to 
find  some  way  to  capture  him  back  come  night." 

No  other  word  of  recognition  passed  between 
Jack  and  Sam.  There  was  no  opportunity  for  con- 
ference, no  chance  of  escape  that  suggested  itself. 
But,  unknown  to  Jack,  while  Sam  was  binding  up 
his  head,  Bessie  was  saddling  a  horse  in  the  barn  and 
riding  by  a  roundabout  way  toward  the  Hansons'. 
She  tried  to  think  what  to  do,  whom  to  tell.  There 
were  so  few  men.  There  was  so  little  that  could  be 
done.  She  did  not  want  to  cause  a  fight.  She  knew 
that  her  husband  could  not  fight  on  either  side. 
What  was  done  must  be  done  by  strategy.  It  was 
hardly  worth  while  to  tell  any  one  here.  The  sol- 
diers, if  they  crossed  the  river,  as  they  were  about 
to  do,  would  pass  the  Hanson  house  a  half  dozen 
miles  away,  and  it  would  be  toward  night  when  they 
arrived  there.  She  would  hasten  on  there  and 
together  they  would  form  a  plan.  But  before  she 
came  to  the  Hanson  house  she  passed  Jack's  old 
home.  It  was  closed  now,  and  had  been  for  two 
years,  and  things  looked  desolate  enough  about  it. 
But  stay,  there  was  smoke  issuing  from  the  chimney. 
The  door  was  open.     What  could  it  mean  ?     She 


372  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

gathered  her  reins  to  hasten  by,  but  a  sudden  thought 
came,  and  she  turned  toward  the  house. 

An  hour  later  the  Confederate  soldiers  with  their 
prisoners  came  down  the  road.  Jack's  head  was 
bound  up  with  needless  care,  and  the  doctor  had 
given  him  many  words  of  caution  in  the  hearing  of 
the  captain,  making  the  wound  seem  fully  as  serious 
as  it  was,  and  had  warned  him  against  too  hard 
riding.  Jack  looked  out  from  beneath  his  bandages 
at  the  home  of  his  childhood.  Dreary  as  were  its 
surroundings  just  then,  its  roof  had  never  looked  so 
inviting  a  shelter  as  it  did  that  day.  The  short  day 
was  drawing  to  a  close.  They  would  ride,  he  felt 
sure,  all  night ;  for  the  captain  well  knew  that  the 
escaped  soldiers  would  bring  after  him  a  much  larger 
force  by  the  break  of  day.  It  was  hard  lines  riding 
past  one's  own  door,  wounded  and  a  prisoner.  And 
his  mother,  it  would  be  long  before  she  would  know. 
Jack  gave  a  yearning  look  at  the  house  as  he  ap- 
proached it.  Then  he  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked 
again.  It  could  not  be  !  And  yet  it  was  so  !  The 
smoke  was  curling  lightly  from  the  chimney,  the 
door  was  ajar,  and  there  at  the  fence,  where  she  had 
stood  the  day  he  left  for  the  war,  was  his  mother  ! 
Before  he  had  time  to  think  twice,  Jennie  Whitley 
came  from  the  house  with  a  panful  of  hot  corn  pones. 

"  Howdy,"  said  Mrs.  Casey,  addressing  the  cap- 
tain. "  Heerd  you  was  comin',  an'  reckoned  you'd 
think  it  was  'bout  supper  time." 

"  Howdy,  mam,"  said  the  captain.  "  You're 
mighty  good.  I  hain't  had  no  sech  kindness  afore 
fur  many's  the  day.     You  mus'  be  Confed'rate  ?  " 


How  Jack   Met  the  Enemy  373 

"  Don't  ye  ast  me  no  questions  an'  I  won't  tell 
ye  no  lies.  But  I've  fed  more'n  one  rebel  afore,  an' 
more'n  one  Yank,  too.  Ef  ye  wanter  talk  politics, 
ye  ken  jes'  go  on.  But  ef  ye  want  some  good  hot 
corn  dodgers,  thar  they  be,  an'  they's  more  in  the 
oven  bakin'  an'  some  hoe  cakes  on  the  griddle." 

"  We  hain't  got  time  to  stop  fur  them  that  hain't 
baked,  but  I'm  mighty  glad  to  take  what  you  got 
baked." 

"  'Twon't  be  long  till  I'll  have  some  more.  I 
want  'em  to  go  'round  ef  I  feed  any  on  ye.  Got 
some  wounded  men,  hain't  ye  ?  Ye  best  let  them 
git  down  an'  rest  while  the  balance  on  ye  eat.  Don' 
you  alls  want  to  go  in  an'  lie  down  a  spell  while 
these  men  eats  a  snack?" 

"  I'd  like  it  mighty  well,"  said  Jack.  "  My 
head  aches  right  smart.  I  don't  want  nothin'  to 
eat,  but  I'd  like  to  rest." 

"We  cyan't  stop  long,"  said  the  captain;  "but 
you  men  that's  wounded  mought  go  in  an'  lay  down 
about  a  minute.  I  reckon  we  won't  lose  no  time 
in  the  end  ef  you  rest." 

The  men  who  had  tasted  the  corn  pones 
wanted  more,  and  those  who  had  had  none  were 
eager  for  a  share.  Elizabeth  knew  well  that  if  she 
got  them  halted,  they  would  not  get  away  for  a  good 
half  hour,  and  meantime  it  was  growing  dark.  The 
two  wounded  Confederates  went  in  with  Jack,  and 
one  also  of  his  own  men.  The  others  were  less 
severely  injured,  and  did  not  care  to  lie  down.  A 
half  dozen  soldiers  carelessly  guarded  the  doors, 
and  ate  the  hoe  cakes  which  the  women  gave  them. 
The  two    wounded  Confederates  threw  themselves 


374  -^  Hero  in   Homespun 

across  the  bed  in  the  living  room,  and  the  Union 
soldier  sat  in  a  chair  by  the  fire.  Jack  entered  the 
room,  and  there  was  Bessie  at  the  bake-oven. 

Jennie  followed  the  wounded  men  into  the  house 
and  said  to  Jack,  "  You'd  best  lie  down  on  the  bed 
in  the  loft.      I'll  go  up  an'  see  if  everythin's  ready." 

Jack  climbed  to  the  loft  and  she  followed  him. 

"  Get  off  yer  does,"  she  whispered,  "  an'  git 
inter  bed.  Be  ready  to  put  on  yer  mother's  does 
when  she  comes.  You'll  hatter  give  her  that  band- 
age, too  !  " 

She  hastened  down,  and  Jack  quickly  obeyed. 
He  could  hear  his  mother  and  the  younger  women 
below  talking  cheerfully  with  the  soldiers,  and  foiling 
every  suggestion  that  they  must  go  on,  with  prom- 
ises of  more  corn  bread.  And  what  with  the  Dutch 
oven  baking  pones,  and  the  two  griddles  making 
hoe  cakes,  there  were  always  some  nearly  done. 
The  girls  chatted  and  laughed  with  the  soldiers 
about  the  door,  and  they  were  neither  very  vigilant 
nor  in  haste  to  go.  And  the  dark  came  on  apace. 
A  half  hour  had  passed,  and  all  the  men  were  fed. 
Then  the  captain  called  for  the  wounded  men  to 
come  out.  Bessie  and  Jennie  helped  the  three 
below  to  mount,  while  Elizabeth  ascended  "  to  see 
how  the  pore  feller  above  was  gittin'  on."  A 
moment,  and  she  had  removed  her  dress,  and  in 
another  she  was  dressed  in  Jack's  trousers  and  coat, 
and  was  wrapping  her  face  with  the  bloody  bandage. 
Jack  meantime  had  gotten  into  her  dress,  and  was 
tying  her  sunbonnet  over  his  face.  Then  they 
descended  the  ladder  together.  The  girls  at  the 
door  diverted  the  attention  of  the  soldiers,  starting 


How  Jack  Met  the  Enemy  375 

toward  the  fence  and  drawing  after  them  the  already 
mounted  guards,  while  Jack  helped  his  mother  to 
mount,  and  they  rode  away  in  the  gathering  dusk. 

Jack  stood  with  the  girls  at  the  door  and  watched 
the  procession  ride  off.  There  was  no  suspicion  of 
a  ruse,  and  no  investigation.  The  captain  was  in 
haste  to  gain  a  few  miles  before  complete  darkness 
fell.  Soon  they  were  out  of  sight,  and  Jack  knew 
that  if  they  could  go  a  half  dozen  miles  before  they 
found  their  mistake,  they  would  never  think  of 
returning.  Then  Jack  turned  to  Jennie.  "  How 
did  you  come  here?  "  he  asked. 

"  We  come  yistiddy,"  said  Jennie.  "  Your  ma 
wanted  to  look  atter  some  things  she  left  here,  an' 
she'd  got  anxious  not  hearin'  from  you  in  so  long. 
So  the  corn  was  all  husked  an'  the  way  was  safe, 
we  reckoned,  an'  we  leP  Cub  with  the  neighbors  an' 
come  over." 

"  And  to  her,  young  man,  you  owe  your  escape," 
said  Bessie.  "  The  plan  was  Jennie's.  I  couldn't 
think  what  to  do,  and  she  thought  it  all  out.  She 
offered  to  be  the  one  to  take  the  ride,  but  your 
mother  insisted  that  it  was  best  she  should  go 
instead.  But  the  credit  of  it  belongs  to  Jennie. 
You  ought  to  love  her  with  all  your  heart." 

"  I  do,"  said  Jack,  fervently.  "  I  do  love  you, 
Jennie  !  God  bless  ye  !  "  Bessie  had  taken  Jennie's 
hand,  and  now  took  Jack's  and  put  them  in  each 
other's,  and  Jack  drew  Jennie  to  him. 

A  half  hour  later  Dr.  Sam  Marshall  came  over  in 
haste  with  a  half  dozen  neighbors  whom  he  had 
collected.  He  waited  only  long  enough  to  applaud 
the  scheme,  and  to  command  Jack  to  go   to  bed. 


376  A  Hero  in   Flomespun 

and  then  he  rode  on  with  the  men  to  meet  Mrs. 
Casey.  The  rest  waited  in  anxiety,  but  without  much 
fear.  It  was  toward  morning  when  they  returned, 
and  Mrs,  Casey  was  in  high  glee  over  her  success. 
The  exchange  of  prisoners  had  not  been  discovered, 
when,  about  midnight,  the  captain  ordered  a  halt  for 
rest.  Then  she  rode  up  to  him  and  said,  "  Cap'n, 
ef  you  don'  mind,  I  b'Ueve  I'll  go  back  now." 

The  captain  was  too  much  surprised  to  speak. 

"  That  was  my  boy.  Captain,  that  wounded 
officer.  I  reckon  I  kin  keer  fur  him  better' n  you 
kin.  An'  you  hain't  got  no  use  fur  me.  I'm  only 
a  pore  ole  woman." 

The  captain  started  to  swear,  and  then  changed 
his  oath  to  a  laugh.  "  You  fooled  us  mighty  nice," 
he  said.  "  An'  that  hoe  cake  did  taste  mighty 
good.  Your  boy,  was  he  ?  Wall,  I  don't  blame 
ye.  I  only  wish  that  I  dast  let  some  o'  my  men  go 
back.     I'd  send  ye  under  escort." 

But  her  escort  met  her  a  few  miles  back,  and 
conducted  her  home  with  triumph,  and  the  dawn 
broke  on  a  happy  household. 

The  Marshalls  waited  till  daylight  and  for  break- 
fast before  leaving. 

"  I  got  enough  left  fur  breakfast,"  said  Elizabeth, 
cheerfully.  "  I  had  jus'  laid  in  a  week's  supply 
from  the  Hansons.  I  'low  I'll  hatter  go  over  agin 
afore  dinner.      I  didn't  look  fur  so  much  company." 

"  You  always  treat  folks  well.  Mis'  Casey,"  said 
Sam.     "  You've  fed  me  here  afore,  you  remember." 

"  Yes,  I  thought  o'  that  first  thing  when  you  an' 
the  men  met  me  this  mornin'.  I  reckon  ye  don' 
bear  me  no  gredge  fur  talkin'  about  shootin'  ye  ?  " 


How  Jack   Met  the  Enemy  377 

"  Nary  bit,  I'd  druther  not  look  inter  the  bar'l 
of  a  gun  in  your  hands  agin,  though." 

"  To  think,"  said  Bessie,  "that  Sam  should  helped 
bring  Mrs.  Casey  back,  and  Jennie  and  1  should 
have  shared  in  rescuing  Jack.  But  Jennie  deserves 
the  credit  of  the  plan." 

"She  deserves  credit  for  a  heap  more,"  said  Mrs. 
Casey.  "  Did  ye  hear,  Jack,  about  her  capturin' 
eleven  men  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Jack,  "but  I  could  believe  it.  I 
know  she's  made  one  prisoner  —  that's  me.  How 
was  It : 

"  You  needn't  never  want  to  break  away,"  said 
his  mother.  "  It  was  when  Kirby  Smith  was  re- 
treatin'  from  Kaintuck.  We  hadn't  no  warnin'  the 
rebels  was  a-goin'  no  more'n  we  had  that  they  was 
a-comin'.  I  was  up  at  Galloway's,  nussin'  little  Bill 
that  had  the  fever,  an'  Jennie  was  alone.  There 
come  a  squad  o'  eleven  rebels  down  the  road  about 
an  hour  b'  sun,  an'  come  in  an'  tuck  possession. 
They  run  down  the  chickens,  an'  killed  seven  on 
'em,  an'  ordered  her  to  cook  'em." 

"  You  needn't  tell  about  that,  mother,"  said 
Jennie. 

"  Yes,  tell  it.     We  all  want  to  hear,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Sartin  I'll  tell  it,  fur  it's  Gospel  truth.  Jennie 
told  'em  to  go  inter  the  room  an'  se'  down,  an' 
she'd  cook  'em  supper.  While  she  was  a-cookin', 
they  ripped  up  the  new  hit-an'-miss  carpet  for  horse 
blankets." 

"  That  was  what  made  me  the  maddest,"  inter- 
rupted Jennie.  "  Atter  sewin'  all  them  rags,  an' 
mother  a-weavin'  of  it  —  twenty-eight  yards  of  it !  " 


378  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

"  They'd  stacked  their  guns  by  the  door  that  leads 
inter  the  kitchen,"  continued  Mrs.  Casey,  "  an'  when 
Jennie  took  them  in  their  supper,  an'  got  'em  all  to 
eatin',  she'd  keep  passin'  through  with  somethin'  or 
nother,  an'  as  she  went  back  every  time  she'd  take  a 
gun,  an'  putt  it  in  the  kitchen,  till  she'd  packed  all 
but  two  on  'em  away.  Then  she  tuck  one  gun,  an' 
pinted  it  at  'em,  an'  ordered  'em  all  to  surrender. 
One  man  jumped  at  her,  an'  she  shot  him  through 
the  shoulder,  an'  then  grabbed  the  other  gun.  The 
rest  didn't  follow,  but  all  kep'  still,  an'  she  gyarded 
'em  till  I  got  home.  Then  we  both  stood  gyard 
over  'em  till  mornin',  an'  then  we  marched  'em  up 
to  Cap'n  Ben  Bailey's,  an'  he  an'  some  o'  the  home 
gyards  tuck  'em  to  Cap'n  Bright  of  the  23d  Kain- 
tucky  that  was  campin'  over  towards  Wild  Cat. 
We  kep'  the  horses  in  the  Holler.  We've  got 
two  of  'em  —  the  two  we  rode  here.  The  cap'n 
said  she  was  the  pluckiest  girl  in  Kaintuck." 

"  So  she  is,"  said  Jack.  "  And  Sam,  how  does  it 
feel  to  be  on  the  side  o'  the  Union  ?  " 

Sam's  dark  face  flushed  just  a  trifle.  Then  he 
said,  "  I  b'lieve  the  South  had  a  right  to  secede  as 
much  as  ever  I  did.  But  I  b'lieve  we  was  fools  for 
doin'  it.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  fight  ary  side  now,  but 
the  sooner  it's  over,  the  better." 

"  The  end  is  a  long  time  a-comin',"  said  Jack ; 
"  but  they's  just  one  way  for  it  to  end." 

"  You're  right,"  said  Sam,  "  we're  outnumbered. 
We've  got  no  show.  The  North  has  more  men 
than  we,  without  takin'  a  man  from  north  o' 
Mason  and   Dixon's  line." 

"  What  d'ye  mean  ?  "  asked  Jack. 


How  Jack  Met  the  Enemy  379 

"  I  mean  the  furriners  in  the  Yankee  army,  an' 
the  Southern  men,  black  an'  white,  make  a  bigger 
army  than  the  hull  rebel  army.  Man  for  man,  the 
South  has  got  the  best  army,  an'  we've  showed  the 
best  generalship  over  an'  over.  But  it's  got  to  end 
sometime." 

"  I  wisht  it  would  hurry  up  and  end,"  said  Jennie. 

"And  so  do  I,"  said  Bessie;  "but  it  makes  me 
sad  to  think  of  our  poor  Confederacy.  But  see, 
Sam,  it  is  light,  and  we  must  go." 


XXXII 

The   Last  Fight 

WE  see  some  things  more  plainly  at  a 
distance.  It  is  now  apparent  that  the 
Confederacy  was  doomed  from  the  day 
that  Grant  captured  Vicksburg  on  the 
Mississippi,  and  Lee's  heroic  army  fell  back  from 
Gettysburg;  and  that  the  4th  of  July,  1863,  gave 
the  country  a  new  and  perpetual  reason  for  the 
celebration  of  the  national  holiday.  But  that  fact 
was  not  so  plain  at  the  time.  To  the  end  of  1864 
it  was  uncertain  to  thousands  how  the  war  would 
terminate.  The  Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle  were 
strong  at  the  north.  Two  peace  movements  —  one 
led  by  Horace  Greeley,  and  one  involving  direct 
conference  with  Jefferson  Davis,  and  between  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  and  Alexander  H.  Stephens  —  had  but 
recently  been  concluded,  with  no  readiness  on  the 
part  of  the  South  to  concede  the  victory.  A 
powerful  political  party  affirmed  that  the  war  had 
been  a  failure,  —  a  statement  often  quoted  for  par- 
tisan effect,  but  which  deserves  attention  now  for  its 
historic  value  only.  The  repeated  calls  for  troops 
had  become  burdensome.  There  was  determined 
opposition  to  the  draft.  President  Lincoln  at  one 
time  shortly  before  the  election  expected  to  be 
defeated.  Thousands  of  sore  and  weary  hearts 
were  praying  for  the  war  to  cease  before  the  plough 

380 


The   Last  Fight  381 

to  which  the  Government  had  put  its  hand,  and  from 
which  it  could  not  look  back,  should  have  driven  its 
hot  share  deeper  into  the  quivering,  bleeding  heart 
of  the  nation.  To  many,  after  four  years  of  fight- 
ing, the  end  seemed  much  farther  away  than  it  did 
at  the  beginning,  when  ninety  days'  enlistments  were 
considered  ample. 

This  inability  to  discern  the  approaching  end  of 
the  struggle  was  particularly  true  in  the  mountains. 
There  was  no  outlook.  There  was  only  the  grim 
reality,  the  poverty,  the  bloodshed,  the  march  and 
countermarch,  the  interminable  chess-play  and  see- 
saw of  moving  bodies  of  men,  and  the  sorrow  that 
reached  in  time  its  limit  of  suffering.  Not  till  the 
very  end  of  the  war  were  these  people  relieved,  for 
whom  the  first  movement  under  Nelson  was  under- 
taken in  1 86 1.  When  the  armies  went  the  bands 
of  marauders  were,  if  anything,  worse,  and  when  the 
Union  army  came  it  was  a  comfort,  but  also  a  sore 
trial. 

Jack's  wound  proved  not  to  be  troublesome.  He 
remained  at  his  old  home  a  fortnight  with  his 
mother  and  Jennie,  and  the  Marshalls  came  over 
every  day.  There  was  genuine  love-making  now, 
between  Jack  and  Jennie,  and  Sam  and  Bessie  gave 
appreciated  but  needless  aid  and  encouragement. 
Jack  found  that  Jennie  seemed  more  lovely  and 
sweet,  even  beside  Bessie  Marshall ;  and  Bessie  and 
Jennie  became  the  warmest  friends  from  the  start. 

It  was  with  a  sinking  of  heart,  then,  that  Jack 
went  back  to  duty.  The  war  had  grown  irksome. 
He  hated  the  raiding  and  wanton  destruction  of 
property  and  life  which  had  now  become  its  main 


382  A   Hero  in  Homespun 

occupation.  He  longed  to  see  the  end  of  it  and  be 
with  Jennie  and  his  mother  and  Cub.  So  it  was 
with  little  relish  that  he  heard  the  call  for  "  boots 
and  saddles"  one  day  in  March,  1865.  General 
Stoneman  had  ordered  General  Gillem  to  advance 
into  Virginia  and  North  Carolina.  So,  ride  they 
must,  and  did.  They  rode  to  Morristown,  where 
each  man  received  five  days'  rations  and  four  horse- 
shoes, and  then  they  took  the  road. 

Gillem  advanced  along  the  line  of  the  railroad, 
tearing  up  the  track,  meeting  only  small  bodies  of 
Confederates  and  easily  defeating  them  all.  He 
met  nearly  as  many  deserters  as  soldiers,  and  the 
soldiers  captured  were  paroled  on  the  field.  Up 
into  Virginia,  almost  to  Lynchburg,  his  men  con- 
tinued on  their  tour  of  destruction,  then  turned 
south  into  the  Old  North  State. 

On  the  2d  of  April  they  crossed  the  Yadkin. 
From  here  on  the  camp  was  thronged  with  colored 
refugees.  There  are  few  negroes  in  the  mountains, 
and  it  was  a  novel  sight  to  most  of  the  soldiers  to 
see  them  in  such  swarms. 

The  colored  men  were  jubilant  over  their  new- 
found freedom.     At  night  they  would  sing  in  camp  : 

"Wake  up,  snakes,  pelicans,  and  'sesh'ners  ! 
Don'  yer  hear  'um  comin', 
Comin'  on  de  run  ? 
Wake  up,  I  tell  yer  !     Sit  up,  Jefferson  ! 
Bobolishion's  comin', 
Bob-o-lish-i-on  !  " 

The  soldiers  were  cheered  by  the  songs  and  con- 
tagious vivacity  of  the  jubilant  freedmen,  but  found 


The  Last  Fight  383 

them  in  their  way  when  they  came  to  march.  They 
were  a  menace,  also,  in  case  of  an  attack,  and  the 
soldiers  needed  all  their  rations.  So  they  sent  the 
freedmen  across  the  mountains,  well  guarded,  into 
East  Tennessee,  where  many  of  them  were  promptly 
enlisted  in  the  Union  army. 

At  Greensboro,  to  which  place  Jefferson  Davis  was 
following  them,  there  to  establish  for  a  few  days  the 
ghost  of  the  Confederate  government,  they  met  with 
little  resistance,  but  destroyed  large  quantities  of 
stores.  It  was  pathetic  to  see  the  joy  of  the  people 
at  the  sight  of  the  flag.  Even  on  such  a  crusade  of 
destruction,  they  welcomed  it,  where  Jefferson  Davis, 
fleeing  south  just  behind  it,  was  received  a  few  days 
later  with  cold  indifference. 

At  Salisbury,  Statesville,  Mocksville,  and  Lenoir 
they  repeated  their  programme  —  a  resistless  dash 
that  bore  down  the  faint  opposition,  and  then  the 
destruction  of  railroads,  factories,  and  all  public, 
besides  not  a  little  private,  property. 

At  Charlotte,  where  the  fugitive  President  of  the 
Confederacy  still  was  hard  behind  them,  finding  for 
himself  and  escort  only  one  hospitable  roof,  they 
destroyed  thousands  of  arms,  1 15,000,000  of  Con- 
federate money,  and  medical  stores  that  had  cost 
1 1 00,000  in  gold  and  were  needed  by  both  armies  ; 
and  the  pity  of  it  was,  that,  had  they  known  it,  the 
war  was  already  over.  But  they  rode  on,  knowing 
only  that  there  was  still  fighting  and  destruction 
before  them,  and  turned  to  attack  the  force  of  Gen- 
eral Martin  at  Asheville. 

Martin  was  supposed  to  have  three  thousand 
men,  but  on  March   loth  he  could  find  only  one 


384  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

thousand  seven  hundred  and  forty-five  of  them. 
They  had  had  no  pay  for  nineteen  months.  They 
were  in  rags,  and,  while  just  now  they  had  food, 
there  were  times  when  they  had  been  near  to  starv- 
ing. The  Confederates  saw  more  plainly  than  the 
Union  soldiers  how  near  was  the  war  to  ending,  and 
now  of  Martin's  force  there  were  only  five  hundred 
left.  These  had  fortified  Swannanoa  Gap,  and 
with  four  cannon  prepared  for  a  vigorous  defence. 
Gillem  saw  that  he  could  not  take  it  without  great 
loss.  Leaving  one  brigade  before  the  Gap,  he 
started  with  the  other,  forty  miles  south.  On 
Sunday  morning,  April  23d,  he  captured  Hender- 
sonville  with  three  hundred  men,  and  turning  north 
again  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge,  by  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  he  was  in  the  rear  of  Martin's 
position,  in  the  valley  of  the  Swannanoa,  and  be- 
tween him  and  Asheville.  The  men  were  in  high 
spirits.  They  had  ridden  sixty-nine  miles  around, 
and  had  turned  the  Confederate  position.  They 
advanced  to  the  attack  with  all  the  spirit  of  resistless 
dash,  which  for  a  month  had  known  but  one  issue. 
It  was  a  beautiful  Sunday,  and  the  earth  was  waking 
to  the  life  of  Spring.  And  neither  side  knew  how 
two  weeks  before,  on  Palm  Sunday,  Lee  had  sur- 
rendered to  Grant,  nor  yet  how  Good  Friday  had 
seen  the  nation's  crucifixion  in  the  assassination  of 
Lincoln,  and  Easter  the  hope  of  a  nation  arising 
from  the  tomb  of  four  years  of  death.  The  war 
was  never  more  real,  and  never  stretched  out  more 
interminably  into  the  future,  than  on  that  morning 
when  Gillem's  cavalry  formed  to  attack  Martin  in 
the  now  famed  "  Land  of  the  Sky." 


The  Last  Fight  385 

The  bugles  blew  the  charge,  the  men  struck  their 
spurs  deep.  The  jaded  horses  gathered  themselves 
for  a  rush,  and  then  was  given  the  order  to  halt. 

"  The  white  flag  !  They  surrender  !  "  said  Gen- 
eral Gillem.  "  No,  it  is  a  flag  of  truce.  Captain 
Casey,  go  forward  and  meet  it." 

Jack  rode  ahead,  holding  above  his  head  a  hand- 
kerchief that  had  once  been  white,  and  met  in  the 
road  the  captain  who  had  captured  him  but  a  few 
weeks  before.  They  exchanged  friendly  greetings, 
cut  short  by  more  important  matters.  Then  Jack 
turned  his  horse  suddenly  and  rode  back  at  a  gallop. 
He  could  hardly  keep  from  cheering  all  the  way. 

"  Johnston  has  surrendered  to  Sherman  ! "  he  cried. 
"  They  hain't  got  official  news  yet,  but  they'll  know 
by  mornin'.  They  want  an  armistice  till  then,  and 
General  Martin  wants  to  meet  General  Gillem  then 
in  person." 

"  I  will  meet  him  in  person  to-morrow  morning," 
said  General  Gillem,  "  and  will  accept  his  surrender 
on  the  same  terms  that  General  Sherman  may  have 
extended  to  General  Johnston." 

Jack  rode  back  with  the  news,  and  the  two  armies 
settled  down  in  sight  of  each  other  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  that  Sabbath  in  peace  :  a  peace,  thank 
God,  that  never  has  been  broken  !  There  was  visiting 
along  the  picket  line,  and  agreement  back  and  forth 
that  this  meant  the  end  of  the  war.  And  they 
waited  the  confirmation  of  the  news. 

It  came  at  eleven  o'clock  that  night.  Johnston 
had  indeed  surrendered.  More  than  that,  two  weeks 
that  very  day,  Lee  had  laid  down  his  arms.  The 
Confederacy  was  dead.     The  war  was  done.     The 


386  A  Hero  in  Homespun 

word  passed  down  the  line  and  the  men  woke,  rub- 
bing their  eyes,  and  heard  the  news  and  cheered. 
The  rebels  knew  the  meaning  of  the  cheer  that 
broke  thus  the  silence  of  the  midnight,  and  echoed 
it  back  again  in  the  rebel  yell.  They,  too,  were  glad 
that  the  war  was  done,  and  their  yell  was  a  glad  one ; 
but  oh  !  there  was  sadness  in  it,  too  !  And  a  few 
weeks  before  that  yell  had  rung  out  so  defiantly,  so 
cheerily,  so  bravely  ! 

There  was  no  more  sleeping  that  night.  They 
kindled  up  the  camp-fires.  They  shouted  and 
danced.  They  hugged  each  other  in  their  joy. 
The  rebel  fires  were  burning  brightly,  too.  The 
Swannanoa  valley  was  having  a  midnight  illumina- 
tion. After  a  while  some  one  started  to  sing.  The 
song  started  on  the  Union  side,  but  the  rebels  took 
it  up,  "  When  Johnny  comes  marching  home."  It 
had  been  long  since  they  had  sung  it,  and  it  took 
on  a  new  meaning  there  in  the  mountains  about 
Asheville  that  Sunday  night. 

"  Boys,"  said  Jack,  "  they  want  to  sing  with  us. 
Let's  sing  *  Dixie.'  We're  Southerners,  too,  the  most 
on  us,  an'  we  can  all  sing  '  Dixie's  land  is  the  land 
I  was  born  in.'  " 

So  back  and  forth  between  the  armies  echoed  the 
song, 

"In  Dixie's  land  I'll  take  my  stand. 
To  live  and  die  in  Dixie." 

There  was  silence  then  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
from  the  rebel  side  there  came  the  strains  of  another 
song.  The  Union  soldiers  listened  a  moment  with 
dim  eyes  and  then  caught  up  the  air.     And  so  at 


The  Last  Fight  387 

midnight,  not  far  from  where  their  ancestors  had 
fought  at  King's  Mountain  under  Shelby  and  Rob- 
ertson and  Sevier,  they  pHghted  their  troth  anew 
and  sang  their  devotion  to  the  united  nation  : 

♦*  Land  where  my  fathers  died. 
Land  of  the  Pilgrim's  pride. 
From  every  mountain  side. 
Let  freedom  ring  !  " 

Secretary  Stanton  repudiated  the  terms  of  Sher- 
man's agreement  with  Johnston,  and  Johnston's 
surrender  had  to  be  made  on  other  terms.  But 
long  before  Gillem  and  Martin  knew  of  the  deci- 
sion at  Washington,  their  armies  had  separated  in 
peace.  The  two  armies  met  in  friendship  that 
Monday  morning,  and  parted  brothers.  Martin 
gave  Gillem  three  days'  rations  for  his  men,  and 
Gillem  rode  back  to  East  Tennessee,  and  let  the 
rebels  go  home  when  they  got  ready.  And  they 
were  ready  very  soon. 


XXXIII 

The   Flag  and  the  Fiddle 

"  1^  JT OTHER,  mother  !  Have  you  heard  the 
\/l       news?     The  war's  over  !  " 

X  ▼  jL.  Jennie    Whitley    rushed    into     the 

kitchen  breathless  on  her  return  from 
the  post-office. 

Mrs.  Casey  stood  with  her  hands  in  the  mush, 
preparing  the  corn  pone  for  the  baker. 

"  Be  ye  right  sure,  Jennie  ?  I  can't  bear  to  be- 
lieve it  an'  be  disappinted." 

"They  hain't  no  manner  o'  doubt  of  it.  Lee's 
surrendered,  and  so's  Johnston,  and  their  armies  is 
bein'  paroled  and  sent  home." 

Mrs.  Casey  forgot  that  there  was  mush  on  her 
hands.  She  raised  them  to  heaven  with  a  cry  of 
joy,  and  then  threw  them  about  Jennie,  and  the 
women  wept ;  while  Cub,  who  was  now  a  boy  of 
seven,  and  knew  his  spelling-book  through,  looked 
on  with  a  sense  of  superior  dignity  at  this  distinc- 
tively feminine  weakness. 

Not  a  day  passed  after  that  without  inquiry  and 
anticipation  of  a  return  of  friends.  One  by  one  the 
soldiers  who  had  enlisted  from  the  Holler  began 
coming  home,  some  well  and  happy,  some  with 
empty  coat  sleeves,  some  weak  and  maimed.  Alas, 
some  never  came  ! 

One  bright  day  in  summer,  when  the  Holler  was 

388 


The  Flag  and  the  Fiddle  389 

all  glorious  with  the  many  shades  of  green  of  the 
trees  upon  its  slopes,  and  the  soft  gray  of  the  rocks 
upon  its  mountain  crests,  and  the  corn  was  in  tassel 
in  its  valley,  and  the  creek  was  rippling  in  the  sun, 
and  the  Sinks  were  humming  a  soft,  low  song,  and 
the  mocking-birds  were  busy  in  the  apple  trees,  and 
the  woodpecker  was  tapping  on  the  tall  pine  stum.p 
in  the  deadening,  a  cavalcade  came  through  Oxyoke 
Gap,  and  down  the  road,  and  over  the  bottom,  and 
halted  at  the  gate.  Jennie  and  Elizabeth  knew  the 
riders  from  afar,  and  ran  to  meet  them  at  the  creek. 
The  horses  came  splashing  through  the  ford,  and 
would  have  stopped  to  drink,  but  the  riders  urged 
them  on,  and  the  two  men  dismounted  at  the  stile 
blocks  ;  and  none  of  them  could  speak  for  joy,  but 
EHzabeth  wept  in  the  arms  of  her  son,  and  Jennie 
Whitley  was  sobbing  on  her  brother's  neck,  and 
Cub  looked  on  in  wonder. 

"This  hain't  much  hke  sojers,"  said  Jack,  wiping 
his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his  hand;  "an'  say,  Eph, 
you  mighty  nigh  forgot  Marthy." 

Eph  turned  apologetically  and  helped  Martha  to 
dismount  from  the  spotted  steed  which  Steph  Crow- 
ell  had  captured  at  the  circus,  and  had  loaned  for 
this  occasion, 

"  Why,  Marthy  Hanson,"  said  Jennie,  "  I'm 
plumb  ashamed  o'  myself  I'm  right  glad  to  see 
you.     'Light,  an'  come  in." 

"  She  ain't  Marthy  Hanson  no  more,"  said  Eph, 
chuckling.     "  I've  fetched  ye  a  sister." 

"  I  wouldn't  ast  fur  no  better  sister,"  said  Jen- 
nie. "I'm  awful  glad,  Marthy.  When  did  ye 
git  married?" 


390  A   Hero  in  Homespun 

"  Last  Sunday  week,"  said  Eph.  "  I  was  sorter 
triflin'  an'  in  the  hospital  at  Nashville  fur  a  week, 
an'  when  I  got  out,  the  reg'maint  had  come 
back  ter  Kaintuck  an'  ben  discharged.  Jack  had 
jes'  ben  mustered  out  at  Knoxville,  an'  I  went  thar 
an'  met  him,  an'  Marthy  come  an'  met  us  thar. 
Parson  Brownlow  —  he's  Gov  nor  Brownlow  now  — 
was  back  in  Knoxville  spendin'  Sunday,  an'  we  jes' 
walked  up  an'  got  married." 

"  Jes'  think  of  it,  Marthy  ! "  said  Jennie.  "  Mar- 
ried by  the  Gov'nor  o'  Tennessy  !  " 

"  We'll  soon  have  another  weddin',"  said  Jack, 
"  an'  I  ain't  a-keerin'  much  whether  it's  a  gov'nor 
does  it,  or  just  a  common  preacher  ;  but  I'm  mighty 
p'tic'lar  about  the  girl,"  and  he  took  Jennie  in  his 
arms. 

It  was  already  decided  that  Jack  and  his  mother 
should  make  their  home  on  Roundstone,  and  Jack 
soon  began  preparations  for  the  building  of  a  new 
house  just  up  the  creek  from  the  Whitley's.  It  was 
a  merry  time,  the  day  of  their  raising,  as  the  Holler 
well  remembers,  and  the  soldier  boys  came  out,  and 
neighbors  gathered  to  honor  the  young  couple  who 
there  were  to  begin  life  together.  The  logs  had 
been  hewed  and  hauled,  the  shingles  had  been  spht, 
and  the  puncheons  had  been  shaved;  and  the  house, 
as  all  the  Holler  knows,  was  raised  and  roofed  and 
floored,  all  in  a  single  day.  There  were  friends  from 
near,  and  friends  from  afar,  and  Joe  and  Becky 
Whitley  came  from  Estill,  and  brought  with  them 
a  pole,  with  one  end  carefully  wrapped. 

Steph  Crowell  was  there  with  his  fiddle,  declaring 
that  he  felt  so  jealous  of  Jack  that  he  wouldn't  a 


The  Flag  and   the   Fiddle.        Page   391, 


The  Flag  and  the  Fiddle  391 

come,  but  he  'lowed  that  was  the  only  way  to  git 
his  pied  horse  back,  and  being  thar,  he  reckoned 
he  mought  as  well  make  the  best  on  it, 

Sam  and  Bessie  Marshall  were  there,  and  Sam 
was  foremost  in  the  work  of  the  raising,  and  Bessie 
and  Martha  and  Becky  decorated  the  bare  logs  of 
the  new  house  with  festoons  of  ground  pine  and 
bunches  of  holly  and  flowers  of  early  autumn. 
They  made  a  bower  where  the  fireplace  stood,  and 
Becky  carefully  undid  Joe's  long  bundle,  and  draped 
above  the  bower  the  flag  of  the  8  th  Kentucky. 

The  work  of  raising  was  over.  The  supper  was 
waiting  in  the  yard.  The  bonfire  was  ready  for  the 
lighting.  The  men  washed  themselves  in  the  spring- 
branch  and  prepared  themselves  for  appearance  in 
polite  society  by  putting  on  their  coats,  and  gathered 
in  the  house  and  about  the  door.  Then  Sam  and 
Bessie  and  Mrs.  Casey  and  Cub  stood  on  one  side, 
and  Joe  and  Becky  and  Eph  and  Martha  on  the 
other,  and  Jack  and  Jennie  took  their  places  in  the 
middle.  The  girls  had  planned  it  together,  and 
the  result  was  a  very  pretty  one.  Old  Parson 
Nesbit  stepped  to  the  front,  and  Jack  and  Jennie 
were  married  beneath  the  folds  of  the  flag  that  first 
ascended  Lookout  Mountain. 

The  service  was  simple,  but  impressive — every 
bit  and  grain  as  good,  so  Jack  asserted,  as  if  the 
Governor  had  performed  it.  There  was  a  moment's 
pause  after  the  prayer,  and  Jack  and  Jennie  were 
still  standing,  hand  in  hand,  when  Bessie  led  Cub 
forward,  and  placed  a  hand  of  his  in  each  of  theirs, 
and  so  doubly  were  they  united. 

Then  came  the  supper  and  the  pine-knot  illumina- 


392  A  Hero  in   Homespun 

tion  and  the  merry-making  that  lasted  until  mid- 
night. They  danced  a  Virginia  reel  by  the  light  of 
the  moon  and  the  pine-knots,  and  Jack  led  with 
Bessie  in  the  first  set.  They  played  "  Skip  t'-m'- 
loo,"  and  Sam  pronounced  the  bride  to  be  "  Pretty 
as  a  red-bird,"  as  indeed  she  was.  And  the  great 
sweet  gum  tree  that  grows  before  the  door,  lighted 
up  by  the  flickering  glare  of  the  torches,  was  glori- 
ious  in  all  the  wealth  of  its  autumnal  foliage. 

The  minister  stayed  to  supper,  but  left  before  the 
dancing,  and  thereby  showed  his  discretion.  As 
Jennie  had  insisted  that  no  stronger  drink  be  served 
than  a  delicious  sarsaparilla  beer  of  her  own  brewing, 
there  was  no  drunkenness  and  no  quarrelling. 
There  was  never  a  happier  wedding  on  Roundstone 
than  that  of  Captain  Andrew  Jackson  Casey,  in  his 
faded  suit  of  army  blue  and  his  shoulder-straps  dingy 
with  service,  and  Jennie  Whitley  in  a  dress  of  her 
own  spinning,  standing  under  the  flag,  where  they 
both  had  earned  the  right  to  stand.  And  so  the 
tale  ends,  as  indeed  it  ought  not,  with  the  heroine, 
and  not  the  hero,  in  homespun. 

They  went  to  work  in  the  stony  Holler,  with  its 
thin  soil  and  its  rocks  and  stumps,  to  dig  an  honest 
living  from  the  grudging  earth.  The  war  had  left 
all  hearts  sore.  To  whom  did  the  war  mean  as 
much  as  to  these  people,  whose  whole  horizon  it 
covered,  and  whose  calendar  to  this  day  begins  with 
that  portentous  event,  which  has  cast  all  preceding 
time  into  one  prehistoric  reminiscence  ?  The  cares 
of  their  daily  life  soon  occupied  their  minds  and 
hands.  They  split  out  new  rails  and  made  fences 
where  the  old  ones  had  been  used  for  fuel.     They 


The   Flag  and  the   Fiddle  393 

turned  to  the  fields  that  had  grown  up  to  sedge  and 
sassafras,  and  broke  them  anew  with  the  hillside 
plough.  They  "  made  "  annually  their  "  little  crap  o' 
corn,"  cultivating  it  with  the  bull-tongue  plough,  and 
with  hoes  whose  every  stroke  rang  on  the  stones  of 
the  hillsides.  They  brought  home  with  them  a  few 
horses  to  replace  those  that  had  been  stolen  by  the 
armies,  and  little  by  little  made  good  the  numbers 
of  their  small  herds  of  sheep  and  hogs  and  cattle 
and  poultry.  They  lived  over  in  each  day  the  ex- 
ternal features  of  the  day  preceding,  with  its  com- 
mon round  of  petty  duties.  They  made  their  visits 
to  mill  or  to  meeting,  and  to  neighbors  up  the  creek 
or  down.     And  that  is  all. 

They  are  still  there,  living  their  commonplace 
lives.  They  are  older,  now,  and  have  children  and 
grandchildren,  who  listen  almost  with  incredulity 
to  the  stories  of  a  time  that  seems  so  remote  and  so 
different.  They  seem  to  themselves,  sometimes,  to 
be  talking  about  other  people,  when  they  describe 
those  thrilling  incidents  in  their  own  past.  They 
have  long  since  forgotten,  if  they  ever  suspected, 
that  they  once  showed  any  elements  that  were 
heroic.  They  do  not  know,  and  the  world  has 
yet  to  learn,  that  in  the  days  when  our  nation's 
fate  hung  trembling  in  the  balance,  the  scale  was 
in  their  hand,  and  they  held  it  without  faltering  for 
the  Union.  They  will  never  know  that  they  were 
heroic ;  but  their  country  ought  to  know  that  be- 
neath many  a  coat  of  homespun  in  Roundstone 
Holler  there  beats  the  heart  of  a  hero. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
91 


